


Crimson Poison

by SterekOTP1



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-05-30 02:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 52,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6405367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SterekOTP1/pseuds/SterekOTP1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A man chooses his own poison. I’ve chosen you. And it’s the sweetest bloody thing."</p><p>Post apocalyptic war between Vampires, Werewolves, and Hunters, Stiles is a 500 year old Vampire and Derek is a Alpha Werewolf. Natural born enemies with a hint of magic turn things a bit deadly. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crimson Poison

 

Watching the sunset’s lively golds, pinks and purples through French doors, Stiles couldn’t help but despise the beauty of its descendants. Casting its colorful assault in the sky for all to see, displaying what little beauty the world had left. The endless rise and fall of the sun was the only consistent reminder of time he could possibly possess. Time, although nonexistent to the supernatural world, was everything to Stiles. Time was the bane of Stiles’s very own existence.

Life itself within minutes, seconds, nanoseconds, would die and ruthlessly take everything with it, along with the little bits of humanity Stiles held so dear.

He sighs deeply, closing his eyes, his shaking hands gripping the metal door knobs, swinging open the French doors and allowing the spring wind to wash over his face as the last remaining sun rays burn through his flesh.

In an instant, Stiles was back at his old home in Beacon Hills, watching the sunrise with his father on their old porch like it was yesterday. In a comfortable silence, Stiles and his dad enjoy each other's company, sipping on their beers on New Year's Eve of 2013, the year his father turned 50 and Stiles himself graduated high school. Although, the memory is distorted when his body contorts in protest, sunrays sizzling his skin.

Another more disturbing memory overcomes him as he is sent back in time to the night he was turned. Not being able to get away from the sunrises burning rays as he ran blindly through Beacon Hills unprotected preserve. The night he lost Scott, the smell of blood on his hands...

Stiles feels himself fall to the ground, groaning in pain as flashbacks of him running through the woods calling out desperately for Scott, become all too real.

In a flash, Stiles is thrown onto his bed with one strong thrust. He cries out in pain as his 3rd degree burns make contact with his sheets. His disoriented eyes look up, only to see Lydia’s blurred silhouette outlined by the retreating lights of the sunset.

His body already healing itself as her form comes into focus; Lydia is standing over him.

She’s as beautiful as ever, in a white A-line dress, with net detailed overlaid on her skirt and neckline, arms crossed, with a deep scowl on her red lips. Stiles, broken out in a sweat, leans back against his headboard, panting and bracing himself as he gazes up at Lydia’s deceiving angelic form.

“My God! Wait.. Is that you?” Stiles says, sarcastically. Lydia gives him a pointed look, which has him instinctively holding his tongue, in both a literal and physical way, since he has seen her rip one out before. Lydia rolls her eyes and sits on the edge of his bed.

“Stiles…” She reaches for his hand, which he reflexively flinches from but is too slow for her grip. Her holds firm as she stares him down with concern. “Stiles. You know you don’t have to do this. We can cancel…”

“No!” He interrupts. “No Lydia, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” His voice breaks. She lightly squeezes his hand.

“It’s alright Stiles. I know what this place does to you...It's not your fault.” He swallows and nods. Willing the memories away, he clears his throat as he straightens his back on the headboard.

“No I'm fine Lydia I promise. I just...I need to do this... It’s what my father would've wanted.” Lydia nods, eyes sad for a moment before she’s quickly standing up and releasing his hand. She dusts off her white skirt before turning around, with her hands on her hips, she gives him an unimpressed arched brow,

“Well, since we've got exactly one hour to make you look somewhat presentable, let's save the psychotic breakdowns for the after party ok? Come on, up we go! No time to waste!” She reaches out both her hands for him to grab. He sighs deeply with a small smile and grabs her hands to help him up.

"Woah!" He squawked, trying not to topple over her, her grip so strong, he goes flying up and almost crashes into her. She laughs out loud, steading his flailing limbs before dragging him over to his walk in closet.

Making her way over to his color-coordinated wardrobe, Lydia does her magic once again, dressing Stiles with her impeccable taste. Maroon button up and light grey checkered, detailed suit, complementary of Giorgio Armani. Lydia insists he wears his matte black, Rolex watch that she gave him for Christmas, which he has to stop himself from arguing with her over being too flashy and just caves instead. Once she's done playing dress up with him, she gives him a cheeky wink and leaves to create beauty elsewhere.

Looking at his reflection Stiles sighs. The perks of being a bloodsucking, Vampire was ageless beauty, well...for some. Stiles's 19 year old, immortalized body was nothing special to say the least. Ripping out people’s throats did help with the lankiness of his limbs though, toning his muscles a bit but nothing more.

He couldn’t grow facial hair, couldn’t pretend to be anything other than barely legal. Designer clothes be damned. Funny thing is, he was pushing into his 500s this year and oh god did he feel it.

Running his hands through his pomade hair, he slightly messes up the perfectly sculpted quiff Lydia spent way too long styling. He sighs deeply, walking over to the very classy vampire suppressant kept in its convenient cupboard and glass bottle. Ah Whiskey, his best friend.

He walks with his glass over to his balcony, facing the backyard of his estate. Full moon, keeping him company as he leans over the banister, looking down at the hired help Lydia insisted on having to organize the party.

Humans, fussing around with their slow limbs and lively beating hearts. Humans were amusing little things. They claimed to be highly evolved, civilized and moral beings, but when threatened or overwhelmed, they instantly reverted back to animalistic fight or flight tendencies. They held self-preservation above all else which was really just pitiful in a world ruled by the supernatural.

Stiles has tried to remember what it felt like to be human. The memories were there but the emotions were so foreign, it made the entire experience useless. Although, being back in Beacon Hills after so many years awakened something inside of him, a hunger that even his appetite for human blood could not quench. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but if he had to describe how it felt, it would feel like an incessant itch, crawling under his skin.

Beacon Hills after all was a town haunted by his human memories and its deception of promises of sanctuary for humankind. Stiles takes a sip of his drink.

The town was just as miserable as it was when he had left. There was no Nemeton keeping the monsters at bay, no Lycanthropes who protected its borders. Lycanthropes were extinct regardless of how enthusiastic Scott once was about their mysterious disappearance all those years ago.

He smiles sadly to himself as he glances up at the full moon. He straightens up and holds his whiskey glass up towards its luminescence. 

“For you Scott…” The wind answers him back, blowing through his hair in response. Closing his eyes for a moment, he let’s the cool wind breeze through him before he’s downing his glass. 

Pulling himself together, Stiles heads out of his bedroom, walking down the long corridor of doors, grand foyer with symmetrical twin curved staircases, and into the chef's kitchen where Allison is sitting on the island sipping from a wine glass. She’s wearing a sexy sheer black and white embellished, high-slit, halter dress. He walks over to her with a sly smile on his face.

“Allison you’re looking stunning as always.”

“Oh thank you darling!” Allison says overdramatically, in her perfected british accent. She winks at him as she holds her hand out. He smirks and does as he’s told, kissing her manicured hand.

“Allison dear, have you heard from the hooligans yet?” Stiles says in his butchered british accent earning a hysterical fit of laughter from her. She smiles as she says in her normal american voice,

“Danny and Jackson are on their way. Isaac is getting ready in my room.”

He laughs, “Oh really? Glad you guys seem to be getting along now instead of trying to tear at each other's throats.” His tones teasing but he was genuinely surprised.

Isaac was their new recruit and Allison's new love interest at the moment. She was usually very reserved with new people Stiles introduces to the clan, taking time to warm up to them. But, if he remembers correctly, Allison stabbed him about twenty times the first time they met when he showed up to a hunt unannounced, which didn’t necessarily help with their fondness of each other. He actually felt bad for the guy, so he assumes it must be the sex.

“Oh you know, just having a little fun. Teaching him a few new things here and there.” He groans, yup he was right but he couldn't help smiling back at Allison’s dimpled, mischievous face.

“Your lucky I have a weakness for dimples…” Allison’s smile widens.

Isaac being the fifth member of their clan to have dimples was undoubtedly a coincidence but it's become an inside joke amongst the members to point out anyone with the small indentation on their cheeks. Asking if Stiles could adopt them into their Vampiric clan. Though Stiles decision to add any other Vampire to their clan usually took _years_. A few months of deliberation was unheard of, even down right foolish on his part but Issac's case was rare... 

“Hey dweebs.” Lydia interrupts, placing a huge vase of red roses in the middle of the island.

“Hey, need any help?” Stiles asks, nerves setting back in. Lydia pops her hip and takes a moment to think.

“Uh. No actually. I’m pretty sure everything’s set up. Just incase…” Lydia walks over and opens the double door refrigerator, taking out three O negative blood bags.

“Here.” She throws Allison and Stiles each a bag which they catch easily. “Drink up. Extra O negative to calm the nerves.” Stiles somehow finds himself already slurping the end of the bag which quickly catches Lydia and Allison’s attention. He smirks and scratches the back of his head.

“I guess I'm more nervous than I thought...” Which was only half true, he was more on edge then anything, not feeling like himself since the incident from earlier. Lydia sighs and goes back into the fridge, pulling out two extra bags and throwing them at him.  

“God please don’t let anyone pop any fangs tonight.” Lydia pleads as she walks past Stiles and saunters outside.  Allison looks at him worryingly.

“Stiles, everything ok?” Eh, things could be worse, so he shrugs and pathetically nods over his blood bag. Allison smirks and jumps down from the island, grabbing the two extra blood bags left on the table.

“Ok then, heading off to give these to Isaac.” Stiles nods, glancing at the time on his watch. Eight a clock was a bit early for any Vampire to have dinner but they agreed on eight o'clock on behalf of their non-nocturnal guests.

Stiles walks outside surveying the excellent job Lydia did on having arranged the white, modern style couches and fire pits. Lava wave heaters lighted the whole perimeter of the patio, lighted infinity pool and jacuzzi. Soft trance plays in the back ground through the surround-sound speakers. Candle sticks and red roses placed strategically around and next to the covered food. It looked like something straight out of a magazine.

His eyes catches Lydia’s gaze as she comes over to him wrapping an arm around his waist. Setting her head against his shoulder, they stand there gazing at the lavish display in comfortable silence.

“Lydia I don’t know what I’d do without you…” Seriously. The invite list, invitations, staff, just everything that went into making this house warming party, the luxurious ambience of it all... She was literally a genius. Lydia nods against his shoulder.

“Me either…” Stiles can’t help but laugh as Lydia sighs contently.

“You guys need anything? Some snacks? A condom? Let me know!” Jackson yells from the patio open doors, looking annoyingly handsome, modeling an attention seeking navy blue, tailored suede blazer, white button up, black bow and trousers.

“Jackson!” Lydia squeals running supernaturally fast to him in her silver six-inch heels. Jackson rushes to meet her halfway in a bear hug, picking her up and spinning her around. Stiles groans at their overly sweet PDA and decides to say hi to Jackson’s husband, Danny instead, who’s asking the bartender for a drink.

Danny turns as Stiles approaches him with a dimpled smirk on his face, wearing an all black suit with a silk black shirt, unbuttoned slightly; show casing his amazing tanned pecs.  

“Danny! Dude, so glad you could make it! How’s everything been?”

Danny and Stiles catch up for what feels like five minutes before the doorman is letting their guests in. The party fills up quite quickly with guests from every part of the supernatural realm.

Paired up almost instinctively now, Stiles and Lydia, Danny and Jackson, and Allison and Isaac make their way through the party in pairs. Introducing themselves, revealing only the vaguest details of their lives, skillfully mastered over time.

Being an expert conversationalist was not only a useful skill but also a surviving mechanism. All Vampires, including Stiles himself were ruthless with this, manipulating and scheming their prey and enemies to their ultimate demise or ulterior motive. The supernatural world had only one rule that existed. Survival of the fittest. He got off lucky having been turned into a supernatural apex predator.

Vampires were rare and highly exclusive to their own kind. It was the exact reason why Stiles and his clan were known notoriously throughout the realm. You either knew from word of mouth or bore witness to the terror that his clan reigned. After all, no one gained authority in the supernatural world from a guilty conscience or displays of mercy.

Violence, Rape, Drugs, and Magic, anything and everything was game, anything less was prey.

If you had blood on your hands, name recognition, and big targets on your back, you gained a reputation vital for survival. Becoming Vampire Royalty over time, gained them the control and connections they had around the realm to stay alive. Although, Beacon Hills majority of beings were magically oriented and taking control of its borders was going be challenging to say the least.

Any place with a strong magic presence usually meant demonic or soulless creatures were not welcomed, including Vampires, but strangely as Stiles and Lydia made their rounds many of the beings were amiable and predisposed of any judgment towards their kind.

In fact, Stiles and Lydia were able to learn more about Beacon Hills history. Listening intently to stories of dark entities that plagued Beacon Hills for years after the Nemeton was destroyed, possessing humans and supernatural beings alike. Killing each other and stripping Beacon Hills of its magical protected borders over time.

Though after a while, Stiles and Lydia had a hard time differentiating between what was real or what was folklore by the overwhelming amount of horror stories they were being told one after the other. He had to excuse himself a couple of times, refilling his champagne glass of Goût de Diamants, to clear his head.

Each story was like a punch to the gut as memories of his father and Scott hit him with hot flashes of guilt. So, he makes sure to pay full attention to his surroundings with all five of his heightened senses, keeping an eye on Danny, Jackson, Allison and Isaac who were all doing an amazing job with flirting and charming the pants off their guests. There was nothing particularly threatening worth Stiles vigilance but his instincts were telling him otherwise.

As Stiles and Lydia listens onto a Healers tale about a creature called Nogitsune, Stiles attention gets distracted by a particular scent. If he hadn’t been paying so close attention to his surroundings he might have missed it completely, but it was just faint enough for him to notice.

Stiles gets a sharp elbow nudge in his side from Lydia, instantly causing him to open his eyes.

“Oh…” Stiles says as he realizes he had completely spaced out. Lydia’s eyebrow arches up at him as he excuses himself, making his way to the award winning dessert buffet. Stiles grabs a strawberry and dips it into the chocolate fondue fountain, taking a bite and turning around, casually surveying his guests.

Looking for the source of that bizarre scent, his nose flares as a gentle wind carries the scent over to him from his left. A faint sweet, earthy, herbal tea, scent that has his mouth watering.

He turns towards it, tracking it down to the direction where a waiter is offering hors d'oeuvres in front of two men. When the waiter leaves it's only then that his eyes land on the man’s beautiful physique.

Stiles can only gape, strawberry long forgotten and fallen to the ground as he studies the man from the side talking to an older, dark skinned man he hadn't introduced himself to yet.

With swept back, jet-black hair, expertly trimmed stubble, biker leather jacket, light blue button down, black tie and dress pants. The guy had to be some sort of model, 6 ft tall, thick muscled body, amazing ass, he was practically drooling for a taste…

“Stiles?” He ignores whoever’s calling his name, eyes never leaving his prey.

“Stiles for god's sake….” Lydia stops mid sentence as she tracks his line of sight back to the GQ model.

“Oh my... Stiles no! Stop, Stiles knock it off!” Lydia harshly whispers at him. He finally looks back at her as she stares at him with disbelief. She starts to smile and huffs out a laugh, shaking her head at him.

“Stiles. Don’t even think about it. He’s out of your league,” she says teasingly. He sighs and licks his lips, fangs retracting reluctantly.

“Lydia, You know what they say; the way to a psycho killers heart is through his stomach...” He says in a daze, watching the man of his dreams continue to socialize  just a few feet away from him. Lydia bursts out in laughter. Wiping tears from her eyes she hits his arm playfully.

“Well, keep it in your pants Jeffrey Dahmer. If he hasn't already noticed you he will soon enough. You're so obvious!”

“Really?” He bites his lip, finally tearing his eyes away to look at her properly. Lydia face palms, trying to suppress her laughter.

“I think it's time for us to get you another drink. Let's go babe."

He snickers as he goes with her to get a drink making sure to ask the bartender for his trusted glass of Macallan this time. Lydia glances back over her shoulder.

“Stiles! Quick! He’s talking to Danny and Jackson! Let's go!” Before Stiles can protest she’s grabbing his arm and dragging him along the cobblestone patio, drink nearly spilling on him as he tries to chug the rest of it down.

“Hey guys! Oh sorry, who’s this?” Lydia says rudely and a little drunkenly, interrupting the couple's conversation with the GQ model. Jackson smirks and looks at Stiles immediately. Damn him. He literally wants to jump off a cliff but downs his drink instead.

“This is Derek Hale. Derek, this is Lydia Martin and Stiles Stilinski.” The non-formal introductions of their names, clueing in Stiles and Lydia that they weren't far from age which, was...surprising to say the least. I mean their Vampires after all, they're use to being the oldest ones at any event. Annoyingly, nothing outwardly displayed Derek's supernatural origins, nor was it proper etiquette to ask in such a public setting so Stiles simply observes him with curiosity. Lydia reaches out her hand.

"Pleased to meet you..." His voice, god, Stiles wanted to wax poetics about it but he was too overwhelmed by the sight of perfection before him.

He could already tell by Derek’s demeanor that he was the reserved, mysterious, bad boy type that could handle it rough and bloody, might even bite back a little. All Stiles wanted to do was hunt him down, taming him in his fangs until he quenched his undying thirst. Stiles could just eat him up. No, he wouldn't let this one get away...

As Derek shakes Lydia’s hand he notices an impressive, sterling silver, wolf's head ring on his pointer finger and thankfully, no engagement ring. Thank _god_. Stiles eyes, traces along the outline of muscle in Derek's arms, hidden behind the black, tight, leather jacket, taking in the way it stretches over his broad shoulders, and how perfectly it looks with his stubble and oh god! Derek was looking at him.

Straight at him! His light seafoam sparkling eyes strikingly contrasted with his black, long lashes and tanned skin. He gives Stiles a pointed look and for a moment he just stares back at him. But when Derek arches his brow, it’s only then that Stiles realizes Derek’s hand is out for him to shake.

"Uh sorry! Stiles. Nice to meet you.” He gulped thickly, reeling in his thirsty thoughts before reaching out his hand. When their hands meet, their strong grips feel like a promised conviction of something otherworldly. The tension in the air around them blazing to life, like two foreign worlds colliding. The lingering of their hands undeniable as Stiles struggles to move his hand away fast enough to disguise the effect it has on him, face flushing as he clears his throat, looking anywhere but at the attractive stranger. 

Derek nods slightly, “You too.” His gaze is unmoving and defiant. Never averting his gaze respectfully like what was expected of him.

It was a universal rule to never look too long into another supernatural superiors eyes unless to dual, openingly disrespect or offer something of interest to them. Their stare off lasting just long enough to spark some debate in his mind before Lydia's voice can cut through the tension.

“So how long have you lived in Beacon Hills?” Lydia asks casually, knowing it was game on from here on out. Lydia knew something was up. She was going to make sure Derek was worth keeping around and Stiles couldn’t love her more for it. Derek turns to face her.

“For about a month now. Recently bought a house not too far from here. Further north of Beacon Hills preserve.” Huh, that's strange Stiles thinks, mountain ranges were usually no man lands, only reserved for the most dangerous creatures in the supernatural world or in Derek's case, the most rebellious.

Danny clears his throat. “Hey Derek, nice meeting you! See you around!” Danny links arms and pulls a reluctant Jackson away towards a group of Fay’s Stiles and Lydia talked to earlier. Derek nods and turns his attention back to them.

“So you live up in the mountains? You must have some amazing views, I’d love to check them out... ” Stiles jokes before his mouth can catch up with his brain. That sounded way better in his head. Oh well. He waggles his brows for more emphasis, just glad he's finally found someone worth using his awkward Stilinski charms on and by the looks of it, his efforts didn't go unnoticed.

Derek raises both brows in surprise before his lips twitch, letting Stiles have just a glimpse of what beautiful smile is surely awaiting to be discovered as he hides his face from view, looking down bashfully. Stiles could've sworn he'd seen his ears flush. Lydia bites her lip trying to suppress her laughter.

Derek smirks, shrugging humbly, “Yeah, it’s not too bad. It’s on sacred grounds.”  He catches Derek’s eyes lighten a bit in amusement underneath the candle light haze. Of course, now all his time tonight was going to be spent on making this gorgeous man smile. 

“Sacred grounds huh? Well then, you must have some territorial claim to it right? As you can tell, we Vampire's love our dinner parties and our acquired tastes demands us to know what places have the best menus in the area. If you know what I mean... ” He says adding a cheeky wink. Unless you'd like to be the main course, that could definitely be arranged, he thinks but he keeps those naughty thoughts to himself, saving them for later on until he can find out personally. Lydia smiles and nods in agreement.

Derek studies his face for a moment. “Yes, of course. I could give you a personal tour of the grounds. With you it shouldn’t take more than a day.” Derek says, his darkening gaze looking up and down Stiles’s body in a carelessly seductive way. Challenge accepted.

“Oh yeah? That sounds amazing,” Stiles says unable to resist biting his lip, watching as Derek’s eyes track the movement. Lydia clears her throat. Derek’s eyes flicker back up to Lydia’s face. Damn.

Lydia laughs out loud giving him a warning look before smiling back at Derek. He felt bad for making her feel like the third wheel but even she couldn't blame him. He's struck gold.

“So glad we have such friendly neighbors. Do you have any more tips for us new kids?” Kids. Stiles smirks, if Lydia was making her lame Vampire jokes now, she's probably got only one more drink to go before she's really up to no good.   

Derek thinks for a moment, his face visibly resigning to something more serious as he says,

“Tips? No, just a little warning...” In an instant the tension in the air is suffocating as Lydia and Stiles brace themselves for the onslaught of Derek’s words.

“Vampires usually don’t stay long in Beacon Hills. As you can see, most people here are of Fey descendants, they hold immense power here…” Stiles scowls as he glances back at Lydia with a similar look on her face. He tightens his jaw, realization dawning on him with where this conversation was going. 

“Sorry, what exactly are you intending?” Lydia says in a clipped tone. Uh oh. Stiles glances back at Derek who's smirk turns predatory in an instant. The dominance Derek’s exuding unapologetically challenges them where they stand and oh did Stiles want to play...

His fangs drop, licking them openingly in front of Derek's gaze in warning. He couldn't remember the last time he's felt this giddy with anticipation.

Derek's gaze narrows in on him as he continues, “Beacon Hills was built on the magic of druids. Keeping any _Nightcrawlers_ out. Any public building or house you go into will prevent you from entering due to protection spells.” And there it was. It’s indirect but definitely a threat no less. Before he is able to remark Lydia beats him to it.

" _Nightcrawlers_? Really? So people here use derogatory words too? Or is that just your own biased opinion somehow influencing your speech.”

Stiles feels his hands fist, claws out and ready to make the first move, dragging Derek away to his dungeon and having his way with him. Show him who exactly he's fucking with. The leather leash around his neck would look so good on him, training him how to be a goodboy. No one would dare stop him, not after being challenged under his own roof. His guests would simply have to turn a blind eye to the screams coming from his bedroom. The thought alone has Stiles ready to pounce.

But sadly, someone clears their throat, breaking the tension only momentarily.

“Now. Now. Has my nephew been causing trouble?” Stiles and Lydia turn to face Derek’s uncle who’s equally just as fine and as menacing looking as Derek himself, just aged by the years, like fine wine. Dressed in a classic black tie suit with hints of leather on the collar and tie, he moves with that grace and ease of somebody with power. His scent laced with musky cologne and hints of sandalwood, which even his heightened Vampire senses could appreciate whilst preferring Derek's sweet amber scent.

He saunters over, his blue eyes transfixed on his target, clearly interested in Lydia.

“Oh? Is this your nephew? I hope your vocabulary is far more exceptional…” Lydia says in a biting tone before downing the rest of the champagne in her glass, in a celebratory shot for the solid burn. Stiles smirked to himself, knowing her all too well. She's still tense from the stiffening of her shoulders but as a slight wind breezes through them, she's affected the same by Peters scent, her hazel eyes clouding over with desire.

He glances back at Derek, watching as his stubble, chiseled jaw tightens but doesn't make a move to interfere. Looking back at Derek’s uncle sauntering dangerously close to Lydia’s personal space, he brings her hand up between them to leave a lingering kiss on her hand without breaking eye contact. Stiles scoffs, the gesture known in the supernatural world as a shameless offer of sexual favors.    

“Peter Hale. I would love to show you just how sorry I am for my nephews negligence.”  Derek sighs deeply and walks away towards the bar. He watches Derek’s retreating back, his eyes lingering on his ass a little longer than it should.

From his peripheral view, Peter instantly pulls Lydia in by the waist, hand dangerously close to her bum. Veering back quickly to watch in horror as Lydia accepts the offer and teasingly inches their lips closely, merely inches apart. 

He wants to look away but can’t as he helplessly watches Lydia turn and walk away, with a possessive grip on Peter's hand as she leads them through the crowded bodies of people. Stiles face palms but can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. Looking over at the trouble making, younger Hale sitting at the bar, chugging down his glass. Stiles just couldn't help himself. He decides to join in on the fun and try out a Hale for himself.

Making his way over to the bar, Stiles orders a Manhattan cocktail, turning around, he rests both elbows on the counter, crossing his black velvet Louis Vuitton shoes. He strikes a casual pose at the smirking badboy, Derek Hale sat on a bar stool, eyeing him with an arched brow.

Derek looks especially good under the led lights of the bar. The central heterochromia of gold and amazonite surrounded by a ring of dark blue sapphire depths. Those stunning eyes, glaring daggers at him seemingly intensified tenfold by his raven feather lashes. His dark majestic looks were tinged with a wildness and mysterious allure that made Stiles want to study the supernatural origins of his lineage, trace his fingers along his striking features and memorize every muscle plane and curve of his body. 

Stiles stares right back in awe at the most beautiful man he has ever seen. He doesn't say this lightly, he's seen a lot of beautiful people in his 500 years on earth but this man right here? He's on a whole other level. His not so subtle gesture of interests makes Derek’s poker face break with a smirk, turning back to pick up his glass of Dalmore as he says,

“Your drinks ready idiot,” before taking a long sip from his glass. Stiles blushes, heart skipping a beat at the pet name as he turns and grabs his own drink that the bartender left for him, gulping it's crimson contents down in seconds. He places it back on the counter with a loud clank. Clearing his throat, not wanting to waste anymore time, he gets straight to the point,

“So about that personal tour…”

“Oh?” Derek interrupts with a terrifying smirk on his face. “Still interested? I thought I scared you off?” Derek says, forwarding his brows in confusion at him.

He scoffs rolling his eyes,“Well, you're going to have to try harder than that.” He says with amusement, leaning his weight on his elbows a little more over the counter and into Derek's personal space with a bit of liquid courage.

Derek huffs out a laugh, looking away before returning his gaze to give Stiles a sassy once over, arching a judgemental brow at his shameless attempts at flirting. Noticing Stiles not faltering in the least, Derek face breaks out in a blinding smile and Stiles gasps, spotting the deep indentations on either of his cheeks. Dimples. Yup, and Stiles is a goner.

“Persistent I see... There’s really nothing I can say to change your mind, is there?” Derek says with a dangerous smile. His alcohol fueled mind wanting to taste it on his lips. To taste every bloody drop of him.

A cocky smile spreads across his own face, smiling through the torment, he shakes his head, replying with, “Not with my stamina. I can woo for days, weeks, _years_ even. I’m immortal after all.”

Derek sighs exaggeratedly, rolling his eyes so hard it had to be one of the best eyerolls he's ever seen. Derek's beautiful eyes come back to glare at him, “What if I said what I wanted was to be left alone?”

If that was what Derek truly wanted, Stiles would leave him alone but just for tonight.

Yeah you heard that right, he won't be using mind compulsion to take what is his tonight, even though he had every right to in this case because Derek challenged him first, it wasn't his style.

See, being as old as he is, the thrill of the chase was something he has learned to treasure greatly. With his resilience and immortalized teenage sexual libido, this fight for dominance between them was a game he did not intend on losing.

Derek's teasing tone in his voice does little to hide his implications so he was fully aware, Derek was testing him. Stiles doesn't blame him for it, respect is earned, so he plays along.

“And then what? Leave so somebody else can take my place? I don’t think so. My house my rules, buddy. I want you all to myself and I always get what I want...”

Derek raises both brows, “Are all Vampires this desperate? We’ve just met? You’re going to have to try harder than that.” Derek says slyly, mimicking his words and taunting him further, even leaning into Stiles’s personal space over the counter as if to intimidate him. 

So Stiles leans in too. Their faces now inches apart.

Derek's eyes flicker down to his lips as he makes sure to lick them teasingly slow.

“Desperate. No. Possessive? Very. I’d love to get to know you better…inside and out, if you allow me.” His words holding an unspoken weight.

Considering, vampires are incapable of love, they were known to lay claim on their victims until death do them part. The daunting sound of ticking slowly progressing in their minds until obsession ensures and madness takes over, draining the victims of their blood before time can claim their lives aside.

Stiles couldn't wait to see how long Derek lasts until he makes a run for it, trying to escape from Stiles grasp but there's just something about him...

Something that tells Stiles it’ll be the longest chase he’s ever had. 

With half lidded eyes, and lips inches apart, they stare at each other. Derek searching his eyes to see if any deception lies beneath them, like he even has a choice, Stiles wants to laugh but he keeps his gaze.

The sexual tension thick with suspense until Derek smirks and pushes back. Cooly walking towards the open doors of the terrace with his hands deep inside the pockets of his black leather jacket, but just slow enough for someone to trail along.

“Game on.” Stiles says under his breath, fist pumping in the air, he prowls after Derek through the crowd. The crowd parting for them as they make their way into the house, the feel of envious eyes hot on his back.

He smiles smugly to himself, glancing back up at Derek whose head is twisting, pulling on his black tie and loosening it from around his neck. The movement alone has Stiles arousal blurring the edges of his vision to focus solely on the movements of his prey.

Unknowingly passing Allison and Isaac who tap on his shoulder as he passes, giving him knowing smirks as he glances quickly but reverts his gaze back to Derek and Derek alone.  

When Derek finally stops in the grand foyer, he turns inhumanly fast, grabbing Stiles roughly by the collar of his grey blazer. He forcefully pushes Stiles up against the wall, sinfully aligning their bodies in all the right places. The compromising position they were in concealed thankfully by the shadows of the dimly lit room.

He moans, heart racing as Derek waits teasingly with his lips just inches apart from his own. He licks his lips impatiently, his own hands tightening into Derek's light blue button up.

“Don't _._ " He warns, letting out a ragged breath, "Don't tease me… please Derek...not now.” His hoarse voice, barely a whisper.

He moves his head to close the distance between their lips but Derek's hands pinning him down stop him from doing so. He's practically salivating from being in such close proximity to Derek's aphrodisiac aroma.

Huffing out a laugh Derek leans their foreheads together, taking Stiles face in his hands.

“Promise me we’ll meet again.” Derek whispers sincerely. Stiles gapes, looking back into his stunning eyes. The fire of determination burning intensely through Derek's very being and back at him.

Stiles can sense it, the unknowing power hidden within him. He gulps, tightening his own hold on Derek, greedily feeding off the waves of dark desire radiating between them as he nods frantically.

“I promise. Whenever, where _ever_ you want.” He says, letting the edge of his desperation and wavering control seep into the tone of his voice, trying to convey the same intensity.

His gasp turns into a moan as their lips crash against each other in a smoldering wet kiss. His eyes roll back into his head as Derek rocks their hips together. He arches his back from the wall, pushing further into Derek’s hips for more friction.

The heat radiating off Derek's skin scorching hot in comparison to his own ice cold, vampiric skin. Derek ruthlessly fucks into him, squeezing his ass tightly and letting out a throaty long hum.

Stiles's whimpered moans stifled by Derek's tongue, kissing him oh so good and deep, his sense of control weakening by every passing second.

Derek growls, letting go of Stiles's lips, he rips open his maroon shirt down to the very last button, using his hot tongue to lick in between Stiles's exposed pecs. Stiles moans deeply, body rolling into it, his mouth open and gasping, grabbing the back of Derek's head for some leverage.

But Derek's mouth continues to edge him on, wetly kissing his way down Stiles neck and collarbone, marking deep hickeys into him with his stubble rubbing and burning all so painfully good against his skin.

He grips Derek's shoulders, only managing to get out little gasps and whimpers of encouragement. Feeling the precum leaking from his cock, Stiles bangs his head against the wall, fangs droping down dangerously, the amber, sweet, earthy, herbal tea smell washing over him in waves, tempting him to _bite_. Fuck!

He grips Derek for dear life, trying to hold back his Vampiric nature.

His efforts are useless though, his hunger virtually consuming him when Derek picks him up effortlessly, wrapping his legs around his waist with purpose, Derek's shear strength making him totally lose it.

"Oh fuck yes, harder!" Stiles yells.

"Mmhm" Derek moans into his mouth, warm hand twisting painfully hard at a sensitive nipple. He pulls away from the kiss and at Derek's thick, black hair roughly to gasp for air. Moaning loudly, his head falls against Derek's shoulder, minutes away from simultaneously combusting from sexual frustration. Groaning deeply, no longer able to hold back, he grinds down with all his might into Derek's thrust and to his utter disbelief, Derek matches him, purring deeply into his ears.

To say he was gone would be an understatement, the new force of their thrusts so brutal it’s literally taking all of his will power not to cum his brains out right then and there. He's never felt this completely and utterly wrecked before. Like he'll lose his fucking _mind_ if Derek stops.  

"So good Derek. Don't stop _please_.." He begs. Derek shuts him up with his tongue,  skillfully moving his hips and continuing to draw out the copious amounts of precum already saturating through his pants.  

"Oh shit Der..." He whimpers, his back hitting the marbled wall as Derek pushes him further up and against the wall with each thrust of his hips. "Fuuuck, Derek so close!"

Derek huffs out a laugh, sucking in his bottom lip, he bites taking it between his teeth and pulling until his bottom lip satisfyingly snaps back.

"Mmph oh yeah cum for me baby." Derek the menace, whispers back into his ears before kissing him deep and sensually, the pornographic sound of their lips parting has Stiles aching for more, chasing his mouth to drown in them once again.

Yet Derek holds back, caressing the sides of his flushed cheeks while gazing intensly at him with parted red, slick lips and half lidded eyes as he continues to nail him back into the wall.

“Close your eyes, it’s alright,” Derek says breathlessly. He shutters, groaning as Derek's mouth goes back to licking and kissing around his neck. Tilting his head back in bliss, his eyes obey.

His mouth hangs open in a silent scream, Derek rolling his hips just right to bring him over the edge but then Derek's thumbs brushing over his lips and down his bottom left fang.

In an instant he tastes blood.

Almost bitter sweet, richly thick with what can only be describe as what nature in its purest form would taste like, if it even had a taste. It ignites every nerve in Stiles’s body to the point of being painfully over sensitive.

He feels the warmth of the other body leave him as he slumps over on the floor, gasping at the mind blowing orgasm he’s experiencing.

Untouched.

Stiles convulses for what feels like hours on the cold tiled floor. Eventually blacking out completely.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles Estate: inspired by this mansion:  
> http://myfancyhouse.com/2013/04/21/majestic-french-chateau-in-texas/
> 
> Stiles outfit: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/71213237830895742/
> 
> Lydias outfit: http://perezhilton.com/cocoperez/2014-08-24-holland-roden-mtv-video-music-awards-vmas-2014-red-carpet#.VqcAPDY-Bxg
> 
> Allison inspired outfit: http://www.laiamagazine.com/kendall-jenner-yigal-azrouel-2014-american-music-awards/
> 
> Jackson's outfit: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/34058540906711054/
> 
> Dereks outfit: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/547187423454795732/
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.


	2. Crimson Poison

When Stiles wakes up, his vision involuntarily autofocuses into his bedroom’s dome, marbled ceiling with pin point accuracy. He rubs at his eyes, staring back up and finds his sight still narrowed in on the ceiling’s foundation and the design in its exterior. He groans loudly, not ready to admit he’s malfunctioning this early in the evening.

He needs at least two coffees to function like any other normal, nocturnal being so he assumes this must be his body’s own way of telling him he requires more sleep. He closes his eyes again, willing to play sleeping beauty until this weird bodily function passes, that is until a dark shadowy figure appears from behind his eyelids. He squints up and shrieks, flailing up in surprise as Lydia stands over him.  

“Stiles?” Lydia asks, her usual teasing tone cracking with emotion, which never happens, ever. Stiles instantly sits up, looking back at her with the same alarming gaze. She appears in equal parts of his depth of field when he asks,

“Lydia? What’s wrong? God, am I drunk? I feel drunk,” he says groggily, his voice sounding hoarse even in his own ears. He clears his throat, the feeling of a hangover creeping over him as he tries to straighten up against his headboard. His vision swirls, making him feel sick to his stomach, the pounding of his head in sync with the heartbeats in his chest.

“What the hell...” He says, grabbing a fist of his hair.

He tries remembering how many drinks he had last night. He only had about two, four, five at most...his last drink was with Derek.

Shit!  

All of a sudden the events from last night come flooding back to him. His body proceeding to break out in a cold sweat. He tries to sit up fully, pushing the covers away .

“Stiles be careful! You're..you’re really sick ok? Don’t get up.” Lydia says hesitantly. His eyes widen, pulling the covers up to view the rest of his body.

“Why? What’s wrong?...” His head kills but it’s not like he’s physically injured. He doesn’t remember changing into his pjs but that aside he’s pretty sure Vampires aren't supposed to get sick. He squints back at Lydia in confusion but the worrying look she’s giving him confirms she’s just as confused as he is.

Lydia sighs deeply before reaching over to the nightstand and handing him two painkillers and a glass of water.

“Take this. You’ll thank me later…”

He doesn’t understand how the pain killers are going to help. Over the counter drugs are too weak for Vampires to use. That’s why narcotics and amphetamines were typical Vampire drugs of choice. But he swallows them down anyway trusting Lydia’s instructions because of her doctorate in medicine, one of the many degrees hung up on her bedroom wall.  

He groans, closing his eyes, his hands tightening in his hair, trying to breathe through the pain.

His eyes water, the prevalent ache in his head now pounding more forcefully than before, raising the heat in his face and before he knows it a liquid tear comes falling down from his left eye. He wipes at his face, looking at his slightly trembling hand in disbelief.

He hasn’t cried in centuries, since he was human.

When the realization of  this hits him, he starts to freak out even more.

“What the hell did he do to me Lydia! What did Derek do? What’s happening to me?” Stiles pleads. Lydia sits down on the bed, still in her silk red lace-trimmed slip, putting a comforting arm around his shoulders.

“I don’t know Stiles I…”

They both turn as the doors swing open, Allison and Isaac walking in with matching terrified looks on their faces.  Sliding next to him on the bed, Allison puts her arms around his other side, cuddling close to him and wiping fallen tears from her eyes. Allison is one of the only vampires he knows whose humanity is still turned on but this has to be his first time ever seeing her cry.

He doesn’t know what to make of it, still in shock that Derek’s the culprit. He sits there stunned in place, the events from the night before replaying in his mind over and over again, trying to see where he went wrong. Isaac moves in beside her. Lydia continues to explain, the strain in her voice indicating she was about to deliver bad news.

“Stiles... Allison and Isaac found you on the floor completely unresponsive. Luckily, you were alone but you wouldn’t wake up, not even after I poured a bucket of water on you.  We helped change you into new clothes and tried forcing you to drink some blood but you puked it all up. You’ve been out cold for almost 48 hours. Danny and Jackson have been researching all night to find a cure but we’ve run out of resources. It’s like nothing we’ve ever seen before...”

Allison wipes at her eyes some more, sitting up and adding on, “Stiles we tried everything. Every blood type in the fridge, even animal blood.” She says trying to hold back the quivering in her voice, squeezing his hand reassuringly.  He gulps, nodding his head numbly. Derek's discriminating attitude towards his kind the most obvious warning sign of the night before.

 _"Keeping any Nightcrawlers out. "_ Derek's threatening voice echos back at him. How could he be so stupid!

Lydia sighs, “After Peter had left I found a note under my pillow.” She reaches over the nightstand and retrieves a white small envelope. Taking out the business card sized paper, she hands it over for him to read. The paper is good quality and symbolic of the Hales impeccable planning.  ‘700, Hales road. Beacon Hills.’ Is written in perfect black cursive.

He looks it over memorizing every detail, the rage bubbling in the pit of his stomach. His hands tremble, thoughts of maiming and mutilation flashing through his mind as Derek’s breathless voice saying, ‘ _Promise me we’ll meet again_.’ whispers mockingly back into his ears.

He scoffs, “Wow I’m so impressed. Like seriously Lydia this is...they really outdid themselves...” He laughs, looking at her in amazement and then back down at the note. Isaac snickers.

The bastard was smart he’ll admit but Stiles was no fool. He will keep his promise, but just for this once.

“I’m going to kill him...” Stiles says, crushing the note in his hands, plans of sweet, savage revenge on his mind, he swiftly gets up and off the bed with inhuman speed, heading straight towards the doors.

He almost makes it before Lydia is grabbing his arm and turning him around. Being the oldest Vampire in Stiles’s clan, Lydia's speed and strength are unparalleled. He has no chance against her as she holds him in her steel tight grip.

“No Stiles! Not like this. We need a plan!” Lydia warn’s through gritted teeth but he barely hears her, the rage boiling through his veins and pounding heart slightly deafening him.

The logical part of his mind screams at him to stop challenging her, but it was too late. His Vampiric side was in control now and he couldn't care less about the consequences of his actions. Maybe if he was in the right state of mind, he'd be able to appreciate her concern for him but as of right now, any rationality has gone out the window.

Since she disapproved of the hierarchy system within a Vampiric clan, giving the oldest individual reign of authority, she had stepped down, making him the second eldest, the leader. Despite reasoning with her, stating all his faults and weaknesses he soon learned that once Lydia was adamant about something there was no changing her mind. That’s why after a minute of struggling against her, her grip loosens, hand lingering in mid air and eyes completely devastated as she lets go of him fully.

Lydia knew, they were the same.

Their ruthlessness made them the ultimate partners in crime both on the battlefield and in handling personal business. They were known for getting the job done, no matter what stood in their way and like Stiles she viewed him as an equal and would have to respect his decision.

But when he finally makes a run for it again, Allison beats him to the doors, looking at him with concern.

“Stiles…” Allison’s voice says in warning but it’s faint in his ears as the room swirls, his heart continuing to pound through his head, feeling lightheaded, dizzy, weak, and nauseous all at once.

"Oh shit..." He stumbles forward literally two seconds away from face planting the ground.

Before he’s able to blackout Isaac catches him in his arms like some goddamn damsel in distress movie and brings him to his bed. His eyesight blurs as he feels himself hyperventilating from a panic attack he hasn’t had in years.

"Wha..Lydia!" He gasps for more air. "I think..." Another shallow breath, "I'm having..." He groans loudly unable to get enough air in his lungs to speak. He fists his shirt over his heart, trying to physically slow his heart down somehow.

He hears Lydia’s distant voice demanding Allison to get her phone before he blacks out completely. When Stiles wakes up again he’s drenched in sweat and foaming at the mouth from starvation.

He tries to get up but notices he’s been tied down to the bed. His voice is almost unrecognizable as he calls and threatens with helpless pleas, but no one comes.

After a while, Stiles goes in and out of consciousness until the door to his room is open and Lydia comes walking through dressed in her hunting gear, hair up, in her black widow inspired one piece.

His head lolls to the side as she walks up to his side, caressing his right tied up hand.

“Stiles how are you feeling?” He gulps. If he was honest, he felt like complete shit but this time instead of the overwhelming need to feed, he felt completely drained of energy so he responds with,

“Tired. Like I could sleep for centuries.” He notices the sadness that flashes in her eyes as she nods her head. Stiles didn’t need to hear the words. He knew he was dying.

“Stiles I’m going to take these constraints off of you now ok? We are going to get you dressed and then head out towards the Hales.” He just nods his head, watching her untie him.

Stiles gets changed into a black sweatshirt, jeans and his lucky charmed red converse. Heart pounding and shaking with adrenaline, he still needs Lydia’s assistance to walk, getting into his navy blue jeep wrangler.

Danny and Jackson follow them in their black Porsche Panamera as Lydia, Allison, and Isaac geared up to kill are dead silent the whole drive, to Stiles's dismay.

It’s raining and the middle of the night when they get to their destination on the hologram GPS. As expected the address doesn’t actually lead to any house but instead down a dirt road to a creepy burned down mansion in the middle of the woods. Stiles sighs, as Lydia helps him down from the car and sits him on the surviving steps, leading to a caved in porch.

“So what now?”  He asks impatiently, annoyed they're carelessly risking their lives to be at his side.

Lydia glances at him and huffs out a frustrated sigh. “They are supposed to meet us here to negotiate a deal.”

"What deal?” He asks, already angry that he hasn’t been informed on any of their plans. The tension between them is thick as no one seems to want to answer his question.

“What deal!” Stiles says in frustration, glaring them down.

“Shhh” Jackson says harshly. He stands up.

“What?” Stiles says, ready to fight when he hears footsteps coming near them, towards the clearing.

He stands up straighter as he sees Peter and Derek, closely behind, walk out first. Stiles hisses at them, letting himself transform to his true Vampiric form. Red bloodshot sclera and protruding veins around his eyes, he relishes in the feeling of his fangs elongating. With his night vision now activated and narrowed in, he's prepared to fight to the death.

Derek meets his gaze, unmoving, and as beautiful as Stiles remembers. Two other people follow suit after Peter and Derek. A pretty girl with blonde hair with a mean resting bitch face rivaled to Lydia’s and a model looking black guy who had to be the tallest one out of everyone there.

“Darling...” Peter says sauntering up, close to Lydia’s personal space. Lydia hisses at him, transformed as well, she bares her fangs openingly in warning.  

Peter steps back with his hands up. “No reason to get your panties in a twist babe. Aren’t we here to negotiate?”

Stiles snorts, still admittetdly surprised by Peters cocky demeanor in the face of almost certain death that is Lydia Martin. Actually, after analyzing each of Derek's out numbered entourage, their confidence levels are obnoxiously too high for his liking.

Derek’s especially, who smirks as soon as he catches Stiles's gaze once more. Derek's intoxicating scent still prevalent and as distracting as it was the night before if not more fatally enticing now that he’s famished.

Stiles’ eyes narrow in on his prey as he says, “Clearly you want to die. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here...” Derek and the rest of his posse eye him as Peters’ predatory attention turns on him.

“You have a lot to say for someone who’s going to die.” Peter says in an unimpressed tone.

“Oh really?” Stiles says sarcastically before making a move for Peter's’ throat, only sadly to be stopped by Lydia's’ arm holding him back.  “Explains why I’m just dying to kill something...” He warns, eyes flicking towards Derek's as he smiles back at Peter's smug face.

The itch to kill almost unbearable as he stands merely inches away from tearing out Peter's throat.

“Enough.” Lydia says. He looks at Lydia in disbelief.

“Could you at least think about letting him die? For me?” He pouts at Lydia. Derek sighs as he walks up closer to Peter.

“You too.” Derek says pushing Peter away. Stiles's eyes can't help but narrow in on Derek, the tension in the air raising to lethal levels.

“Oh really Derek? Because it seems like you guys only respond to displays of violence.”

Derek ducks his head, hiding an infuriating good looking smirk as he walks dangerously closer to him, standing eye to eye now, as if to intimidate Stiles with his size, like he could legitimately challenge Stiles with his strength. And maybe...just maybe he could. After all, underestimating the attractive asshole is what got him here in the first place.

The thought alone has every fiber in Stiles's being vibrating with anticipation, adrenaline racing through his heart as Derek's smoldering attention turns deadly. Even Danny tenses beside him, moving closer to him on his left. He's thankful for the back up but doesn't move, too enticed by the unknowing danger that Derek might bestow on him.

“Look, don’t take it personally.” Derek says looking at him from under his lashes. “This is family business and now that we have your undivided attention,” Derek's eyes dropping down to his lips in a seductive gaze, successfully objectifying him as he continues, “We just want to explain our side of the deal,” stepping oh so temptingly closer.

Lydia’s arm is standing in the way but Stiles couldn't resist the killing instinct anymore. Before Lydia’s able to stop him, he’s grabbing Derek by the throat and slamming him into a nearby tree. He leans over to talk into Derek’s ear, smirking as Derek's eyes widen in response.

“I’m getting really bored and impatient of your games Derek, so you better spit it out or else...” he warns, tightening his grip. He see’s a flash of red before his hand is being ripped off and he’s the one being pinned to the tree by the collar of his sweatshirt.

He see’s his pack and Derek’s stand off, waiting for a queue to attack but the animalistic growl Derek’s making in his throat demands his attention back. Growling at him, in his half shifted form is a werewolf. A hairier faced Derek to be exact with alpha red eyes and big, white fangs bared.

“You’re a fucking werewolf?” Stiles says, breathlessly and a little overwhelmingly turned on by Derek's terrifying half shifted form. Really, the bestiary depictions of lycanthropes don’t do them justice.  

Derek growls in response. The close proximity of the deep vibrating sound, tremors through Stiles chest, goosebumps breaking across his skin in response. “God, you're hot,” he says before making a move for Derek’s throat.

The entire clearing is filled with growls and hisses as Derek and Stiles pack face off. Although, he's too busy to care with his fangs sunk deep into Derek’s unprotected wrist.

He didn’t even need to try, Derek’s vulnerable wrist was out in the open trying to pin him down, too easily accessible to latch onto with his fangs.

Sucking in Derek’s blood like a lifeline, Stiles instantly felt it’s effects in his body, curing the painful ache in his head and stomach, making him feel so full and alive again. Derek's delicious blood was simply life changing.  

It's taste the most rich, thickest, and purest tasting blood he has ever had, in his nearly 500 years of existence. It's euphoric rush so addicting Stiles felt like a drug addict, unable to stop sucking mouthfuls of it down, desperately trying to get his fix like he was strung up on a drug. He trembles, his vision and thoughts clouding over in a hazy bliss. Allison’s faint voice ringing through his ears.

“Stiles! No!” are the last words he hears before blacking out entirely.

When he wakes up again, he’s startled awake from loud banging and screams coming from Lydia’s room that’s right beside his.

Sitting up instantly, he hears her cry out, “Let me out! Let me out now or I swear I will tear you apart limb by limb!” He runs over to his own doors, trying to rip the doors from their hinges but he quickly realizes that his are also sealed.

Confused, he tries again using all his strength but fails.

"Damn it!" He yells, banging his head against the warded, thick mahogany doors in frustration. Leaning against its cool surface out of breath, he sways before them.

He figures the seal on his doors must be magically bonded, tightening the more effort he puts in trying to rip them open.  

He sighs deeply, squeezing his eyes shut, thinking of what to do but the only thing he's capable of focusing on is the lightheadedness he feels with what he assumes is from exerting so much energy at once.

He walks back to his bed, thinking maybe if he took a moment to think it might help him come up with a plan, which was obviously a huge mistake.

When he walks back to his bed, falling back on his mattress, his heartbeats slows down instantly, heavy eyelids threatening to shut as the drive to brainstorm melts away into a puddle of comforting cushion. The soft feel of his sheets against his skin tempting him to surrender to the dark clutches of sleep. Although he doesn’t remember them being so warm and comfortable, or smelling so good...

In seconds, Stiles body flushes in heat, every nerve in his body crying out to be touched, erection throbbing in his pants, precum already saturating through his boxers. He gasps, sitting up and standing to look at his bed in a daze.

“What the fuck?” He breathes in deeply, smelling Derek's sweet amber scent all over his bed. His body responds immediately, stomach clenching tightly and aching for more. No, No, NO!

Stiles runs into his king sized bathroom, taking off his restricting black sweatshirt, and looking himself over in the mirror. Flushed deep red, all the way to his chest, sweaty, shivering, fevered skin, pink with sensitivity and for the first time, in over 500 years, Stiles felt sickly human again.

Turning on the faucet and splashing water on his face, several times, trying desperately to cool off to no avail. He slams his hands down against the marble sink in fury, remembering Allison’s voice ringing through his ears in warning.

He was such an idiot! Selfishly letting his predatory instincts take control instead of killing Derek when he had the chance.

It was going to kill them all.

Everyone he ever let himself care about.

Without them he is nothing.

Overcome with rage, he walks out of his bathroom and back into his room, mind racing a mile a minute. Stiles tries the doors to his balcony but they’re also sealed. Cursing under his breath, he shakes his head, grabbing at his hair in frustration, annoyed his mind was choosing this moment in time to completely blank out on the 500 years of experience he's had with dealing with enchanted objects.

He looks them over, noticing the paper enchanted seal on the outside taped to the door frame. He smirks before kicking through the glass pane of his French doors, laughing to himself as he reaches over and simply rips the spelled paper off. Vampires aren't affected by magic so the usual zap of defense from the easily reached seal didn't affect him at all. Ha fuckers!

Once outside, he jumps on the roof, running over to Lydia’s balcony, already ripping off the seal and busting through the doors. He walks in and immediately spots Lydia crouched down on the floor.

Her hair a mess, with sticks and dirt, her black widow suit unzipped, steady tremble, racking throughout her body. He knew the signs of rape all too well, but needed to make sure.

He runs over to her, already shaking with rage, he holds her shoulders, helping her sit up.

“Lydia? Lydia! Are you alright? Who did this to you?” She looks up at him silently with dead eyes, lip split open, and bruises around her neck. The oldest, strongest and deadliest Vampire Stiles ever knew was on her knees, out of her goddamn mind!

He shakes her, “Lydia? Answer me! Lydia!” he yells, eyes stinging with unwelcomed wetness that he was sure, dried up centuries ago. He swallows hard, trying to regain control, to focus, his eyes frantically searching for clues, too caught up to see the sudden movement.

He really should have known better though, frozen as Lydia’s fangs sink into his neck, drinking half of his body weight in blood in seconds. Distraction, the pathetic cause of his near brink experience of life and death. Then Lydia's letting him go just as quickly, making him stumble to the ground.

Standing over him Lydia gags, throwing up mouth full’s of his blood. Coughing and gagging Lydia falls to the ground, veins around her eyes and fangs disappearing completely. The aftershock has him feeling the bite mark on his neck fade, taking his shaky hand away, covered in his own blood.

Looking down at Lydia’s dying form, he quickly recovers, picking her up and laying her back down on her bed. He runs out of her balcony in panic, dropping down onto the lawn.

Seeing lights from the formal living room on, he rules out trying to open the magically sealed doors and instead crashes through the windows, seeing Allison, Isaac, Danny and Jackson stand instantly from their seats around the grand fireplace.

“Stiles wait…” Danny says closest to him, but before he’s able to go ape shit, Stiles sees him walk in...

Tanned, uneven jawed, and puppy eyed as ever is Scott Mccall’s unaged ghost, openingly gaping at him in surprise as Stiles stares back at him with the same expression. He can feel the color of his face drain away, the fight in him successfully extinguished out. Stunned in place, he's only able to huff out a laugh, closing his eyes tightly for a moment, settling on hallucination at fault for this bizarre apparition.

“Stiles…” Scott's voice says clearly in his ears, echoing now in the deadly silent room but he refuses to open his eyes, too afraid that his mind was playing tricks on him, baiting him to open his eyes and see nothing but the betrayal in the room.

“Stiles, Look at me!” Scott’s voice raw with emotion rings through his ears.

His eyes open instantly, the tears fall almost immediately as he looks at the boy whose screams haunted his dreams for nearly 500 years. Like his nightmares, he opens his mouth to speak but no words come out, too sad, too guilty, to say anything, like he was still that 19 year old boy who lived all those years ago.

Scott’s face goes stone cold as he moves to take a step closer but freezes as the doors of the formal living room swing open and Derek and his uncle are striding in. He wipes away the tears quickly, gulping down the repressed emotions within him once more.

Derek’s nose flares but is unreadable as Peter's face scrunches up in disgust.

“Someone certainly enjoys making an entrance,” Peter says mockingly but it's faint in his ears, the sound of his heartbeat drowning out any surrounding noise. His eyes close tightly, concentrating on the familiar sensation of depersonalization that comes from turning off his humanity.

"...Well, if you don’t mind, I need to go feed my little vampire princess. You guys can deal with this mess on your own.” And that's all it takes. Stiles eyes snap open with killer intent, crouching down ready to attack.

“Or I could just let her die…” Peter says, smirking with too many sharp teeth and flashing electric blue eyes at him.

“Shut. Up!” Derek snarls out in a futile attempt of warning before Stiles has Peter by the throat, body slamming him into the ground, the satisfying sound of his skull cracking and sight of blood only fueling the feral needs in him to kill and maim.

The shadow from the corner of his vision moves from where he's standing over Peters' unconscious body, Derek.

Stiles smiles, catching his gaze, reflexively licking his fangs before lunging forward, taking him down as well. Their bodies collide like a head on collision, both of them crashing down together, skidding to a stop on the other side of the room. Straddling his waist with the sweet taste of victory right on the tip of his tongue Stiles is thoroughly shocked when Derek catches him off guard, flipping them over and managing to escape from his grasp. Stiles flips back up, hissing loudly, he sees Derek backing away towards Scott whose red eyes burn holes of hatred into him.

He stills, feeling his skin crawl as he looks back at Scott's red glowing eyes. They're just... wrong.

"Scott..." Stiles says, but the name tastes like ashes in his mouth. Despair courses through him knowing that Scott hadn't been spared that night....that they'd _both_ been changed forever. Scott, he's...he's gone.

"Stiles. Stop. Listen to me..." The stranger standing in front of him says, the authority tone in his voice almost undeniable, returning Scott's haunting brown eyes back.

"No..." Stiles looks down, unable to meet his gaze, he shakes his head and shuts his eyes tightly, shakingly grabbing at his hair, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. The oxygen in the room is gone suddenly, making his lungs burn as he pants to catch his breath.

They killed him!

"Please Stiles don't..."

His best friend!

"They're- They're my pack."

His brother **!**

Stiles yells in anguish, lunging towards Derek in a blind rage. Derek catches his hands in a steel tight grip.

“Calm down,” Derek demands, his face inches away from him, staring him down with his glowing red alpha eyes.

“Fuck you!” Stiles yells, furious as he grudgingly uses all his strength to try and pry the alpha's hands off but Derek is fast.

Using Stiles’ momentum to push their bodies flushed against each other before picking him up and manhandling him into a bridal style hold, he carries him off, yelling and screaming out of the room, no one stopping to help him. He's utterly humiliated, trying to bite Derek but before he's able to he's thrown back down on his bed from across the room.

Derek sighs and sits down on the couches opposite of his bed, crossing his ankle over his knee, arms draped over the couch casually, looking at Stiles like an impatient parent.

“Don’t you think it’s time for us to talk?” Derek says, with just a hint of aggravation in the tone of his voice, while sitting there looking completely calm and collected, in his sexy plum, unbuttoned, chest hair showing, dress shirt and black jeans. Stiles swallows, closing his eyes, he meditates, reining in his anger just enough to fully speak sentences again until he's only annoyingly turned on and pissed. Taking one for the team, he cautiously walks over to talk to the werewolf on the couch, standing with his arms crossed.

“About what Derek? Your twisted master plan worked! You got exactly what you wanted! What the fuck is there to talk about? Huh?” Stiles asks, less than amused at Derek’s nonchalant attitude. Derek rolls his eyes and sighs forcefully.

“I could've left you for dead. But I didn’t.” Derek says, looking up at him expectedly. He scoffs impatiently,

“And? Your point?” Surely, Derek wasn’t stupid enough to think Stiles was going to trust him now, there's always a catch. But Stiles needed to ask, on behalf of Lydia, whose life was still in jeopardy. Derek looks away staring at the waxing gibbous moon through the open doors of his balcony, the moon casting its light onto him like his own spot light, extenuating the sharp lines of his cheekbones attractively as he says,

“Werewolves have evolved throughout the millennium to have a built in, self defense mechanism against Vampires. A toxin that kills any Vampire who drinks our blood within 48 hours from starvation, if not fed by the original werewolf owner’s blood. You'll never be fully satiated with any other blood source but my own. My blood is the only thing keeping you alive.” Derek says, turning back and narrowing his crimson red eyes at him. The tapetum lucidum glow of his alpha eyes reflecting through the darkness of his room.

Stiles tightens his jaw, annoyed that he could look this ethereal while condemning him to death, it just wasn't fair. Although he's silently thankful that they hadn't catched onto the differences in their vampire hierarchy, just one of the many perks of Lydia's demotion, being the strongest one between them, she'll have a chance to save the clan and make it out of this alive, all Stiles needed to do was keep the Alphas interests on him. Lydia will be able to handle the rest. Flailing his arms in his direction he says,

“Then why? Why keep us alive?” Derek arches a brow up at him,

“Isn’t it obvious? We want to make an alliance.” Stiles scoffs, left completely speechless.

Did he seriously just hear that right?

Stiles was expecting a vengeance but justified story blaming his clan for their countless slaughtering of innocents, the cities they pillaged or an outright ban from the town of Beacon Hills, maybe even a treaty agreement to never step foot into x and y amount of distance to the nearest civilian but he suspects _anything_ else would make more sense than an alliance. I mean Stiles has heard it all before but this has to be the first time since anyone's willing to comply to an agreement with his clan without brute force.

There has to be more, a deeper meaning to what's going on here, something that Derek doesn't want him to know, why else would he be so dedicated on making this alliance? He takes a moment to try and figure out the implications of what Derek just said but he's facepalming in frustration a minute later coming up completely empty handed. The possibilities were endless, hell Derek could make up any bold face lie and Stiles and his clan wouldn't have any say in the matter.

“Well if we don’t have a choice than there’s really no alliance then is there!” He half yells, lifting his head already ready to kill Derek. Derek sighs and stands, walking over to join him in the shadows, crowding into his personal space.

“It’s not what you think.” Derek says, glancing down at Stiles’s lips before trailing them down past his chest. He breathlessly inhales, blushing when he remembers that he’s shirtless. The werewolfs hungry eyes rake up and down his lean but muscled torso. Stiles swallows hard, trying not to be affected by it as he says angrily,

“Well, I can’t think of a better reason to die.” Stiles has sacrificed parts of himself for his clan in the past and he would do it again in a blink of an eye if he had to. As their leader he'd always put them before anything, his soul, his freedom, his body...

He can tell Derek is taken aback by his words from the forward twitch of his brows, but after a moment Derek’s heated eyes harden, hand coming up to caress his face. He flinches but Derek comes closer. Sliding his warm hand around to the base of his head, squeezing lightly at the hair there, while giving him this look of complete adoration, like something to be treasured and Stiles who’s physically unable to resist his touch, can't bare to look away.

“Don’t say that,” Derek says in a harsh whisper, voice borderline threatening as his warm palm comes down to run over his neck and all the way to his lower back, strong arm wrapping around his waist to brush his finger tips up and down his exposed hip bone. The intensity in his eyes seems as though it can look through to Stiles's very soul, pleading at him to understand, as if his life held more value than all the stars in the universe. 

Stiles groans, over sensitive body betraying him. He swallows thickly, eyes glossing over as Derek's light touches set his skin on fire, shivers barely containable as he pushes against his chest, fingers accidentally rubbing over the soft expanse of dark chest hair and Stiles really, _really_ needs to move away, like right _now_.

He tries to step away from the hot temptation of Derek's body but Derek's having none of it. Angrily huffing, his other hand grabs a fistful of Stiles hair and _tugs_ and it nearly kills him. A breathless whimper escapes from his lips as Derek aligns their bodies perfectly, barely keeping a lip grazing distance between them, he rests their foreheads together.

Derek's kaleidoscopic eyes half lidded as he says,

“You need me Stiles. I know what you're after. We both want the same things...” His voice is low and intimate, as though coaxing him into submission. Stiles huffs out an incredulous laugh, catching himself almost wanting to believe him. There were only a few exceptions of people who were allowed to promise sweet nothings in his ear and Derek was dangerously close to becoming one if Stiles let things continue. Grabbing Derek's collar, he gives in, pushing their bodies flush together for a heated moment.

“Oh I’m sorry. Your tone implies that I’m actually supposed to care.” He meets Derek’s eyes challengingly before pushing him away but only managing to move him a step back.

Stiles knew Derek’s game all too well. He was just trying to get a reaction out of him, seducing him, merely playing with his food before eating it.

Well, he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Stiles had learned the value of patience the hard way over the years and he was going to let Derek learn the same. Let him figure it out, let him underestimate Stiles, the worth of his life and with the information he freely gives, will simply hand over the answer he needs to make the final decision.

Afterall, he's flipped cities and countries upside down with the simple miosis and mydriasis of his eyes so why does Derek think he won't do the same with him, let alone with the people of Beacon Hills? He looks back into Derek's eyes, doing just that, focusing his eyes to capture him in a trance like mind compulsion, hoping to find any hidden agenda. However all it does is make Derek smirk all too knowingly, clearly amused and not affected at all.

Stiles gasps in shock, pushing him away yet Derek is insistent, pulling him in by the waist and holding him tightly.

Derek's eyes are calculating as he says,

“This town would have seen you dead but I can make it your home and every soul who wishes you harm will be struck down. Just as sure as my blood runs through your veins. You will return to me...” Derek’s words are sincere and confident but nonetheless give Stiles the ammunition he was waiting for.

The sound of his hand landing on Derek's face resonates throughout the room. The slap strong enough to have any normal person flying across the room by it's sheer force, only leaves an impressive red handprint on Derek's cheek, whose face seemed to move just slightly along with his footing.

With his suspicions of Derek's strength matching his own confirmed, he shutters, absolutely amazed. They were equals. Stiles was impressed and even more turned on than before. Well then Plan B it is...

The room is silent as Derek turns his head slowly back, blood crimson eyes narrowed and furious. His chiseled jaw clenching is so insanely sexy it sends a zing of warmth through him. His skin buzzing with excitement. Fuck! He was so screwed.

Stiles tries to catch his breath, hand still stinging from the impact as the blood rushes from his head and down to his dick. He can't help the breathless laugh of amazement that escapes his lips when their eyes lock.

"Always wanted to do that..." Derek's expressive brows narrow in confusion but Stiles swallows, his eyes trained on his lips determinedly. He stalks forward, harshly grabbing Derek’s face and bringing their lips together in a fierce, wet kiss.

Turning his mouth into a gun with a bullet that has Derek’s name on it, he pulls the trigger.

Moaning into Derek’s mouth, he goes to town, roughly cutting off the warning low growl in Derek's throat with the dive of his tongue. Feeling Derek reciprocate the kiss, pressing their bodies flush together, he groans deeply, tightly wrapping his arms around Derek’s broad shoulders and deepening the kiss. They kiss like their starved for one another, their tongues licking into each others mouths filthfully.

He grinds into Derek’s thighs and gasps as Derek slaps his ass, growling, his burning hot hands slide under Stiles black jeans and squeezes _hard_ , wordlessly acknowledging that Stiles can take that shit as well.

Derek grinds back into his thrust and in one fluent movement has Stiles off the ground, legs wrapped around his waist, bringing him over and throwing him back down onto the bed. For the short moment they part Stiles can focus on nothing but the primal needs of his arousal, which are only being fueled by anger and hatred the longer their apart.

" _Derek_ ," He warns before Derek finally glides his body over Stiles, knocking his knees apart to fit perfectly in between his legs.

Stiles’s hands automatically reaches for Derek’s shirt, roughly pushing it up to dig his fingertips along his flexed abs, loving how his nails dig painfully deep into each groove. Derek snarls loudly, like he's barely in control of his wolf, he rips open his shirt, leaving Stiles gasping at his thick muscled torso. He tosses the shirts shredded remains back carelessly, leaning back down over Stiles’s body, right where he belongs.

Delicious aroma develops him as Derek's heavy form presses into him, kissing him deep and sensually as Stiles tongue slides over his lips, desperate to be let in. When he opens his mouth Stiles's own, ravenously tastes every part of Derek he can reach. Feverishly kissing him back with all his might, he lets his body take out his anger on Derek through his lips.

Derek is pliant and skillful though, driving Stiles insane with his soft lips and slick tongue, warm big hands teasingly squeezing the junction between his hip and thighs, heat radiating off him like a freaking radiator while relentlessly rutting against him.

Stiles can't get enough, the fact that he's on edge from frottage alone is literally blowing his fucking mind, everythings happening to quickly and yet not fast enough. It's unnerving with just how much he wants this, _needs_ this.  

His arms draped around Derek’s shoulders give him access to his flawless muscled back, which he makes sure to scratch painfully hard, drawing blood along their path. The sweet amber scent of Derek's blood hitting the air has Stiles fangs shooting out so quickly it aches his jaw. His abdomen contracts, spilling an embarrassingly huge amount of precum all over his boxers.

Derek snarls, baring his fangs in warning, he removes the buckle from his jeans in one fluent motion

"Fucking _finally_ ..." Stiles says breathlessly, excited to finally get his hands on his rock hard cock. But then Derek's taking both of his hands and pinning them over his head. "Wait.. What are you doing?" He says louder, squirming beneath his hold. Derek somehow already manages to have his hands strapped together, tightening the belt almost painfully so. "Ow!"

"Oh Shut up," Derek says with the hint of a smile on his lips. Suddenly mouthing openingly at Stiles’s neck, sucking and biting harshly at his skin. Stiles feels himself smile, surprised by this new ability to let someone else take control. Stiles almost couldn't believe it, like seriously is this real life? A wave of unexplainable emotions washes over him as Derek marks him, making him want to cry with its intensity. It's almost too much to bare when something inside his mind identifies the feeling as adrenaline. He was having an adrenaline rush!

"Fuck it, keep going!" He pants, allowing himself to drift deeper into the feeling, shamelessly moaning loudly when Derek's biting turns into air tight suction and licking at spots around his neck.

He's left reeling in Derek’s soft lips and scruff before Derek uses his free hand to grab at Stiles hair, pulling his head back and revealing more of his neck in submission.

The sudden feeling of sharp fangs prickling his skin has Stiles moaning loudly, arching his back and lifting off the bed for more.

"Oh fuck yeah!" Derek growls in response, holding his hips down, he _bites_.

Stiles gasps in shock, stilling with bated breath, his heart hammers in his chest as the werewolf fangs sink through his trapezius. The animalistic rumble of satisfaction that comes out of the werewolf has Stiles shuttering out a breath, relaxing into it, mesmerized at the sensation of being on the other end of another predator's bite. Derek holds him there with his fangs, moving his hips now in a slow circular motion. It's cruel really, how Derek's taunting him, daring him to challenge Derek's dominance over him, knowing how powerless he is against him now.

But even through his haze of arousal Stiles isn't scared, in fact quite the opposite, he feels grounded in the moment, like the bite alone is anchoring him to his body, joining the essence of his Vampiric nature and him as one. The hot pressure against his neck, making his entire body tremble in comparison.

"Harder! Please..." Stiles cries out, needing to feel the Alpha in his very bones, tearing into the very core of his soul until Stiles can do nothing but _feel_ for days. Derek growls in response but obeys, spreading his thighs even further apart as the friction between them and their boxers become almost unbearable.

Derek unclenches his fangs from Stiles' shoulder to bite at his nipples with his bloody spitted mouth , letting out pleased inhuman rumbles after letting go of each one with a slick pop, sucking and nipping at them until their raw and puffy.

Stiles gasps, eyes rolling back and then shutting tightly, with his wet mouth open in ecstasy, moaning like a complete slut as Derek fucks into him. Thrusts so hard, he huffs out a breath every time their bodies collide.

“Der.. So good! I’m going.. to cum. Ugh! hnngh...” Derek cuts him off, gagging him with two fingers in his mouth and letting him salivate on them.

But before he’s able to finish cumming, Derek’s taking away his hand and biting into his wrist, resting the bloody gash over his mouth. His fangs bite into the flesh unable to resist, his mouth filling up with Derek’s exquisite blood.

He has about one full gulp of blood before he’s convulsing, stomach full and painfully over sensitive and for the first time in over 500 years Stiles is unable to drink anymore, pushing away Derek’s wrist. The wasted blood spills from over his lips and down his throat.

Derek grabs his neck firmly in a choke hold, grounding Stiles once again as he watches with half lidded alpha eyes, the effects of his own blood coursing through Stiles veins, making him feel like he was floating through some psychedelic slow motioned reality.

Stiles lets out a embarrassing pained whimper, his eyelids becoming heavy as the heat rises to his face and throughout the rest of his body, the pressure in his dick swelling up once more.

"Jesus Christ!" He gurgles out, the blood spitting from out of his mouth. Sweat pours from every part of his body, the choked out gasp that escapes his mouth, his only warning before he's cuming again, his entire body racking with spasms and jolts as his second orgasm rips through him. His eyes water, nearly passing out in the process.

A deep inhuman whine comes out of Derek's throat from above, his vigorous thrusts slowing down as he cums, collapsing onto Stiles in a heap of sweaty limbs.

Derek unties him shortly after, capturing him from around his waist and securely into his warm embrace. His dull teeth scraping against Stiles shoulder teasingly as they bask in their afterglow.

Stiles can't help but fall limp in his arms, never feeling so high and bewildered in his life. Derek's warm kisses along his spine luring him to sleep.

He finds himself snuggled up in Derek’s sleeping form as the smaller spoon the next morning.

Unable to find the energy to move, he snuggles back into his sleeping wolf. The Alpha's arm still wrapped possessively around his waist.

Stiles smiles at himself in triumph with the bullet firmly lodged into Derek’s heart.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles estate:http://myfancyhouse.com/2013/04/21/majestic-french-chateau-in-texas/  
> Dereks outfit inspired: http://mathew-daddario.tumblr.com/post/137798848392  
> Lydia's Black Widow suit:https://www.pinterest.com/pin/105975397459079261/
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy the smut while it lasts;)  
> 


	3. Crimson Poison

Outside is dark and stormy as the sounds of rain and thunder fill up the silence of Stiles’s room.

Noticing the broken glass on the floor, Stiles suddenly sits up, remembering the night before and the missing werewolf from his bed. The house is silent as he stands, dragging himself over to his bathroom to take a shower.

Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he's thrilled to see the bloody smears of his and Derek's blood having dried over his pale dotted skin during their shared midnight snack. But sadly none of Derek’s amazing hickeys are included in the visible evidence of last nights escapades. Cursing at his supernatural healing abilities, he quickly discards his pants and saturated boxers in disgust.

Stepping into the shower, standing in the middle of the spray, he lets the hot water run over his face. Stiles wipes away his hair from his eyes as he watches the steam cloud up the glass doors. Noticing how his eyesight is thankfully under control, feeling as normal as ever, he wonders how he’s even alive. He racks his brain, thinking of Derek’s coded message last night before he had interrupted.

“ _You will return to me_.” He shivers, affected the same at Derek’s crypted words. It’s only mid shampoo before he realizes what he means. Stiles hurryingly finishes up his shower, drying himself quickly and running over to his closet. Grabbing a silver, sun protector rune ring, black t-shirt, boxers, and maroon jeans he heads out of his room.

Immediately walking down the hallway to Lydia’s but before he’s able to reach for the doorknob he hears a whimper from behind the nearly sound proofed doors of her room. Stopping himself in his tracks he strains his inhuman hearing to listen in. As he waits outside Lydia’s doors, another more, longer sound reaches his ears which has him swiftly walking away, traumatized by how close he was to walking in on Lydia and Peter.

“Ugh so gross!” He shutters in disgust as he makes his way down the staircase, glad that he was wrong and Lydia was in fact ok and not starved to death.

Walking through the center room and to the formal living room, hands stalling as he remembers that literally anyone can be behind those doors.

Gulping loudly he holds his breath, swinging open the doors to the formal living room. Thankfully, no ones there. He exhales in relief but is quickly moving through all the rooms looking for any signs of life.

Nope.

He walks back to the kitchen, seeing if someone had left a note and sure enough, there was one in the middle of the island in Allison’s hand writing.

Despite the highly advanced technological developments made throughout the millennia, supernatural beings such as himself were left out of the equation. Their inhuman abilities too complex for humans to adapt their technological advancements as supernaturally friendly.

Though time would prove over and over again that being tech challenged was actually a lifesaver more than not. The one of a kind writing of Allison's undoubtedly telling Stiles that she was safe and you know, not possessed by some unknown being forging her handwriting.

“Danny and Jackson are staying in the guest quarters. Isaac and I went hunting. Peter is here. Derek left.”

He scrunches up the note, and throws it away in anger as he remembers Derek’s absence from this morning after he nodded off again.

Alone, he stands in the middle of the empty kitchen feeling an odd sense of disgust with himself. Walking over to the glass French doors, he looks out of his terrace and into the dense wooded backyard of his estate as the rain pours down against the ground, matching Stiles’s mood perfectly.

Derek’s stupid beautiful face flashing in his mind, the fucker, Stiles Stilinski doesn’t do one night stands ok? He’s a cuddle in the mornings, make me breakfast; play video games with me while I blow you type of guy!

He had guys and girls offering their palaces and summer mansions up in order for him to stay and yet here he is, with no bed in breakfast or morning boning! Stiles smirks, realizing how hot and bothered he is, god he hasn't felt this way in so long, he's missed it. Cracking his neck and knuckles, he laughs to himself as his mind races with all the fun ways he's going to get Derek back for this. 

He steps outside with his trusted titanium baseball bat in hand, the rain drenching him in the process but not caring in the least as he closes the door from behind him, hoisting Betty up on his shoulder, he walks barefoot into the woods.

Walking through the beginning of the preserve, he spots a trail off to his left. It's suspitiously close to his house so he decides to take a detour and check it out, curiosity getting the best of him. But he should’ve known. Curiosity always kills the cat.

His breath catches as he spots it lying there in the middle of the trail. The stump completely ripped out of the ground, the tree snapped in half like a twig. He starts panting, as the world slows down, heart pounding in his ears; he just knows that this is it.

This was the fucking tree.

Setting Betty down a safe distance away before he picks up the stump, ripping the rest of its roots out of the ground and throws it with all his strength away from the trail. Slumping down to his knees, out of breath, as Scott's, unaged face alive and healthy as ever flashes in his mind.

He grabs at his hair with both hands, remembering all those times he had reached his breaking point, at his lowest and darkest points of his life, dragging himself back to this fucking awful town and wanting so badly to crawl back into his father's arms or just wanting to see a familiar face. Remembering how he would visit Scott's grave over the decades, cursing at its gravestone and crying at it for not responding back to him as he confessed the worst of his sins. He remembers the night he turned like it was yesterday.

It was a summers night and Stiles and Scott were wasted. Having been to a house party earlier, already located near the borders of town, they ran drunkenly through the trees, laughing childishly, breaking one of Beacon Hills strictest rules. Little did they know that it would bite them in the ass, quite literally.

But of course, with Stiles and Scott's luck their adventure to go skinny-dipping in the lake rumored to be there, turned into a nightmare as they made their way to the clearing. A tree, a few feet away, noisily fell to the ground, wind from the fall felt all the way from where they were, scaring Stiles and Scott out of their skin.

They looked at each other and ran. Running through the woods for their lives, he made sure to hold onto Scott’s chronic asthmatic shirt in order to stick together. But even with all their effort, it was useless.

Something was chasing them, moving through the trees like a bullet train, right on their heels.

The closer and closer it got the slower his legs felt, something in him just knew, this was it, they were never going home again.

Everything felt like it happened in slow motion, he felt his body jolt back so hard, his shoulder rips out of its socket and in an instant Scott is gone.

Stiles didn’t realize he was airborne until he slams back down on the ground, body stumbling back into a tree, getting the wind knocked out of him.

Wheezing and blind from the impact he sits up, blurry vision only able to see shadowed figures. Scott screams Stiles’s name, he stumbles up, wiping the blood from his mouth, then Scott’s screams in agony stop abruptly as there’s a sickly crack, followed by slight splatter of liquid on Stiles’s face, knowing by the metallic smell that it was blood.

He cries out Scotts name, but there’s no response, only the brushing of trees that Stiles chases after aimlessly for hours. Sobbing, covered in blood with a few broken bones, he pushed himself until his legs gave out.

Half deranged, he laid there mouthing Scotts name over and over again, his voice lost hours ago. Stiles's human body was so weak it was dying right there in the middle of the woods.

He remembers the shallowness of his breath, the slowing of his heart. Stiles could’ve sworn he felt his last breath, he remembers closing his eyes, but then the next thing he knew he was blinking up to the sky, sun bright and blinding, in the state of transitioning.

When he reflectively ran under the darkness of the trees it was in that moment he not only realized he survived, but also what he had turned into. The smell of blood on him triggered his hunger but he doesn’t remember who were his first victims. Only that he had left a trail big enough for the entire town of Beacon Hills law enforcement to come looking for him.

Including his dad, the Sheriff. That night Stiles saw his dad for the last time, in the woods with his hunting rifle being followed by a group of cops.

He cried as he mouthed I love you to his dad and his last farewell before turning around and not returning for another 500 years.

And now here he was, kneeling in the woods where the tree that signaled his death had just smashed into pieces from his bare hands. Looking away from the trees shattered remains Stiles glances back to the trail ahead. Gasping, he stands up and with inhuman speed runs to the muddy edges of the lake.

Watching as the rain ripples its surface, he sighs deeply. It was just an ordinary lake and to think Stiles and Scott died trying to see it was just pathetic. No really, before he knows it he’s huffing out a laugh and then howling with laughter, crying as he thinks of their stupidity.

After he settles down, the thought of Scott actually alive and breathing makes him ecstatic despite how weird it was to see him flash alpha red eyes the other night. Stiles wasn't a speciesist and no matter how much Scott has changed, he'd be damned if he let their friendship get ruined over something so trivial.

Adrenaline fueled, he runs through the woods and deeper into the preserve, Betty tucked safely away under his arm. Howling mockingly, after some miles when he reaches the mountains of Beacon Hills preserve.

Even though, he can run with inhuman speed, he didn’t want to spend all day looking for them, so he made an effort to howl as many times as possible to draw the Hale's pack attention. Hopefully Scott's or Derek’s since they were the only ones who knew him. Knowing Peter, he’d probably leave him out there, or send someone else to kill him and Stiles really didn’t feel like getting his hands dirty.

Wow, he was really surprising himself lately, the blood of Derek’s must be affecting his brain because he would never be doing this otherwise, he realizes, looking around in the middle of the woods. He knew he was out pretty far but he was clueless as to where the hell he could be.

He takes a deep breath, puffing up his chest with oxygen, getting ready to howl again when he senses something from behind him. Jumping out of the way,  he spins to face it, Betty out at the ready in his hand before his eyes get assaulted by a whole lot of girl nakedness. Closing his eyes, he drops his hand, wincing.

“Uhh hi?…” Stiles says awkwardly.

“We heard you the first time dumb dumb!” A voice says from right in front of him. He opens one eye and squints at the blonds smirking face from the night before in the clearing.

“Oh! I remember you!” Stiles says, fully opening his eyes.

“You sound like a dying squirrel,” another deeper female voice says from his left. He glances quickly but reverts his eyes back to the blond as she continues smirking at him.

“Well, you guys aren’t exactly easy to find so I had to resort to my last option.” Both females burst out laughing.

“Oh my god. You need to do that again. Derek needs to hear that.” The brunette girl from his left says, making the blond laugh even more, wiping tears from her eyes. He huffs out a frustrated sigh,

“Ok but can we laugh about this somewhere else where it’s not pouring rain? I really need to talk to Scott.” The brunette girl carries on laughing as the blond tries to quit her giggling, clearing her throat she says,

“We can take you there but you're not allowed to see.” He quirks his eyebrow in confusion,

“Uh, ok?”

“So close your eyes,” The blond says, biting her lip.

So Stiles closes his eyes and swiftly gets knocked out. The next time he wakes up he’s being carried on the back of a huge wolf. Its fur black with light patches of brown, he tries not to freak out realizing he's riding on a horse sized wolf.

He sits up already straddled on top of the wolf’s back, holding onto the wolf's fur for stability and quickly getting the hang of it as he looks down the path to a grey stone driveway. Turning into the driveway he gasps when he sees the house.

Eyes widening in shock as he looks at the sleek rustic mansion. It wasn’t quite as big as Stiles estate but definitely a mansion. It’s beautifully modern, blending in perfectly to its natural environment. It's wooden, cabin like exterior, stain less steel detailing, and enormous glass windows, makes him excited to see the inside.

Nearing the entrance, he gets nudged off to the ground suddenly, Betty landing in a clatter right beside him. Landing on his ass he grimaces from the pain but gets distracted as both girls transform into their human bodies in one fluent motion.

Noticeably staring, he stands up quickly, grabbing Betty as he watches them simply walk through the front door, dripping wet and completely naked. He smoothes his soaked hair over and follows them into the house. The girls walk further in the house but don’t bother signaling him to follow so he stands there awkwardly, fidgeting with nerves. Hearing Derek’s voice before he sees him, he instantly perks up but quickly deflates as Derek’s voice comes closer.

“Cora I don’t care! Go get dressed and hand me the towel.” He swallows, bracing himself as Derek turns the corner but it’s no use. Derek was pissed and Stiles dick couldn’t help but twitch in excitement, dressed in a muscle hugging grey Henley and black jeans, Stiles's eyes rake up and down his perfect toned body. Stiles reflectively catches the towel thrown at his face, successfully drawing in his attention as he smirks up at Derek who's looking as beautiful as ever with a deep scowl on his face.

“What are you doing here Stiles?” He says, eyeing Betty propped up on his shoulder and crossing his arms, displaying his amazing muscled biceps, clearly not getting why Bettys choosing to make such a rare appearence.

Stiles mouth waters as the amber aroma hits him. Swallowing hard, he huffs out an annoyed breath at himself, unable to formally introduce Betty to Derek's all too pretty face. "Looking for Scott. Where is he?” He asks moodily.

Derek sighs deeply, “He’s not here.”

“Wha…where is he then?”  

“Out. Now why don’t you go back home?” Derek says impatiently.

He scoffs, “Because Mr. Sourwolf, I didn’t come all this way here to go back home. Actually, I think I’ll stay awhile until he comes back. Thanks for inviting me in.” He walks past him but Derek pulls him back by the hem of his shirt. He sighs, unable to resist Derek’s cute antics.

“Uh, I remember you saying once, my house, my rules buddy.” He rolls his eyes.

“And?” Stiles walks closer, invading dangerously into Derek’s personal space. “What the hell are you going to do about it?” Stiles whispers, making sure to Eskimo kiss Derek’s nose for an extra kick.

Derek smirks, pulling Stiles in by the waist, he rips Betty from his grip, throwing her behind them. Stiles gasps.

“Take off your clothes and find out.” Stiles huffs out a laugh in relief leaning in for a kiss before Derek’s curving him and walking away. Stunned by rejection, Stiles stares longingly after Derek’s ass,

“Damnnn...”

“Hurry up or I’ll make you wait in your underwear!” Derek warns with his back turned.

He laughs out loud, following Derek up the stairs connected to the front entrance, into a black sleek kitchen, with a stone, glass case fireplace conveniently separating the formal cozy living room.

He follows Derek down a long hallway of doors, turning to the right to a wooden staircase, Stiles loving every inch of the house as he follows Derek close behind. Past another awesome glass hallway and down the right of the hall is where Derek stops and opens the doors.

He's left at the entrence openingly gaping at the room, taking in the beautiful sight before him. Derek walks straight into the walk in closet, disappearing behind a door which he leaves slightly open for Stiles to follow. 

He smirks at how Derek, Derek’s room is. Plush black duvet with leather and fur accent pillows and modern furniture, he bites his lip thinking of how much he’d just love to mess it up. The room has an amazing view of the preserve on the right overlooking a cliff that must drop at least 20, 30 feet and a wall with an impressive large flat screen TV over a stone made fireplace opposite of his bed, with a talisman on display.

He sneakingly moves closer, the light catching on one of the steel swirls just right for him to do something he knows is going to get him in lots of trouble later. He jumps as Derek calls out his name.

“Coming dear!” Stiles replies, smiling at himself at Derek’s imagined scowled face in his head. Inside Derek's walk in closet, also all black he might add, is the bathroom.

He walks in hesitantly as Derek’s reaching into the cupboard and pulling out another fresh white towel. Handing it to Stiles and arching a brow up at him, he says,

“You can shower in here. Clothes are right there. Don’t come out until Cora’s scent is off of you.” Derek says the last sentence a little more forcefully, which has Stiles forwarding his brows in confusion, watching Derek leave and closing the door behind him. 

Stripping off his clothes, he makes sure to ring them in the sink, leaving them there to dry before going into the shower. It’s made out of white marble, with all the jets and shower heads one person could possibly ever need. He smiles to himself as he thinks of how clean and neat Derek is, adding it to the list of pros for not killing him.

His mind lingers on the thought of Derek in there with him, helping cover his body with scented body wash a little longer than it should as Stiles's dick twitches in interest.

Already half hard, his heartbeat speeds up at the thought of Derek being able to hear him jerk off, moaning his name over and over, begging to be taken. He swallows hard, leaning his head against the cool marble wall. Yup, and now he had a full hard on in Derek’s shower.

Fuck! He was so screwed. Looking down at his dick fully erect and twitching, he had no choice. He either jerked off right here or he walked around with blue balls and an obvious hard on.

Sighing, he reaches for the body wash, squirting it loudly in his hands to not draw suspicious attention as the sweet lavender scent reaches his nose. He rubbed it in, down his chest and shoulders, hands lingering over his perked nipples. The memory of Derek sucking on them replaying in his mind. God damn.

Moving his hands slowly down his torso and around his dick, he wraps his hand around the tip, pumping at it softly and imagining how amazing Derek’s mouth would be around it.

Sucking, wet, and warm around him, eyeing him from underneath his long lashes, half lidded, and god, his tongue coming around and circling it slowly, teasing Stiles until he’s taking his dick all the way to the base. Stiles head falls back, quietly whimpering as he pumps at his dick more forcefully, gripping his dick painfully tight.

He would cry out, grabbing Derek by his hair, helping guide him up and down, slurping and so tight down his throat. Shit, Stiles was close. Derek would literally suck the life out of him, ruthlessly.

Until Stiles is desperately thrusting into his mouth, moaning and groaning, grabbing Derek’s head and fucking in his throat with both hands tight in his hair. Spilling hot cum down his mouth and feeling Derek’s throat contract, gulping him down. Stiles gasps, cumming. Derek’s moaning and taking all of Stiles, sucking lightly at the tip until Stiles pulls at his hair.

Leaning his head against the shower wall for support he quickly realizes how carried away he got. Covering his mouth with his hand absolutely mortified that he'd been moaning and gasping the whole time.

Fuck, yeah he was going to get kicked out and banned from ever going into Derek’s room again.

Stiles sighs deeply, quickly finishing his shower, scrubbing at his skin until it’s raw and red, trying to cover up his scent. Grabbing the towel and drying off, he eyes the clothes Derek’s lent him on the counter. Smirk slowly appearing on his face, thinking of wearing Derek’s clothes around the house and what that might look like to Derek’s pack.

Putting on the Calvin Klein boxers, cozy grey sweatshirt and black sweatpants Derek lent him, he walks out cautiously, wondering into Derek’s room, thankfully not finding Derek there waiting for him.

Confused, he makes his way out of the room and down the staircase to the kitchen where sure enough, the blond bombshell from earlier now dressed in tight black ripped jeans and leather, string strapped top and the brunette wearing a white sheer top and leggings stand over Derek, looking at his old fashioned Mac laptop in concentration. He swears if he had taken a picture it would’ve looked like some sort of fashion ad in a magazine.

“Uh, Hey guys,” Stiles says a little awkwardly, walking over to the island, curious to see what they're all looking at, bending over to take a peek before the laptop shuts quickly and Derek is squinting at Stiles in suspicion.

“Pack business. Anyway, This is Erica and Cora, my little sister. They will be keeping an eye on you while I’m away. Scott said he’d be back in a few minutes.” Derek says, grabbing his laptop, he stands, getting ready to leave. Stiles quickly rejects, 

“What? You’re leaving already? I just got here! You’re a terrible host.” Stiles pouts, crossing his arms, annoyed that Derek might have more important things to do. He didn’t travel all this way just to be ignored, no, Stiles was one of the most feared creatures in the supernatural world, he should be treated as such. Derek rolls his eyes,

“Sorry your majesty, I didn’t know you were showing up. I have plans and responsibilities that I need to go do. Scott’s on his way?” Stiles huffs out a laugh, flabbergasted.

“No, Derek. I need to talk to you. No offense guys,” he says towards the two girls, “This is important! After all, it’s not everyday I get eternally reliant on werewolf blood.”

“He’s right Derek. You made a commitment. Erica and I will leave you to it then.” Cora says, pointedly looking down at the lower region of his body and back at him with a sly smirk on her face before grabbing Erica’s hand.

Looking down in confusion he notices the Calvin Klein boxers band peaking out of Derek's sweatpants, his sweatshirt rising just enough when he crossed his arms to give them a proper show. He gives Derek a shit eating grin after he catches Derek's eyes skim across them. Derek rolls his eyes when their gazes catch, turning to glare at the retreating backs of his pack leaving him behind.  

Derek huffs out a heavy sigh when they've completely gone, looking pissed at Stiles like being in the same room with him is a punishment in itself, with his sparkling green eyes glaring daggers at him. He sits back down in his seat, cautiously as if he was weary of any sudden movements Stiles might make.

Stiles can't help but smile wider, walking slyly around the island and into Derek’s personal space. Derek turns in his seat to face him head on. He slides between the werewolves knees.

“Hey, don’t give me that look..." He says, voice low and teasing, wrapping his arms around Derek’s broad shoulders. He licks his lips slowly, watching as Derek gulps, eyes locked onto his lips and wet tongue as he continues, "I want to talk to you. Figure out whether or not I shouldn't just kill you. You know, weigh out the pros and cons. I’m sure you understand...”

Derek gives him a pointed look. He laughs,“Derek dear, don’t tell me you thought last nights escapades were somehow a consummate to our deal? I still have some minor rules I need to enforce before we go head first into this life long blood marriage to one another...” He tightens his hold, successfully cageing Derek in incase he tried to escape, he leans his weight onto him, aligning their bodies perfectly.

Derek smirks, showing off his dimples. Stiles swoons internally, leaning over to whisper into his ears, “Come on, Derek, get to know me. I dare you.” Stiles smiles, the ghost of his breath over his ear successfully causing Derek's eyes to gloss over.

Their eyes lock intensly, the sexual tension between them thickening as his right hand comes down to claw over Derek's muscled, grey henley chest and down his rock hard abs, physically ready to end this game of cat and mouse between them. But Derek's catching his hand before it can get any lower, bringing Stiles chin up to look at him properly, eyeing him with amusement.

“I don’t like mixing business and pleasure. I think it’s best if we keep things strictly professional. I thought you’d understand.” Ouch. Stiles sighs forcefully, rolling his eyes. He tries to control the flare of possessiveness that washes over him, realizing how Derek’s manipulation is getting to him. He fists his hand in Derek's tight henley, pushing them even closer together, their lips now inches apart, his fangs out and ready to _bite_ as he spits,

“Professional? Is that what this is to you? A partnership?" He laughs, "Well, let me quickly clarify things. People quake with fear around me because I have the power to make them afraid. If you think I’m going to share you? You're wrong.” He smiles licking his fangs, they pulse with the need to tear out flesh as thoughts of Derek with another make him burn with rage.

Derek sighs again, body smoothly rolling into Stiles' hold, standing challengingly in front of him,

“I know exactly what type of person you are, Stiles. What your _cult_ is capable of. It’s the exact reason why I’ll be the one in charge of making the rules.” Derek says eyeing Stiles coldly. Stiles tries to suppress a manic laugh, biting his lip with his fangs, that's it. He's over trying to play nice.

He thrusts Derek back into the counter, chair falling loudly to the side as he's grabbing the belt of Derek's jeans, holding him down and against the island.

“Is that so?...” Thrusting back into Derek's hips, he moans feeling both their groins brush against each other, grabbing Derek by the neck, giving the vulnerable tendons there a light squeeze. Derek's eyes bleed red, baring his fangs and letting out a low, threatening growl but before Stiles is able to retaliate further, Scott walks in, shirtless in a pair of jeans, already dried off, holding a towel around his neck. Dereks hand comes up to yank down Stiles wrists, releasing himself from Stiles grip to break their stare off, glancing over at Scott.

“Uh, Did I interrupt something? I’ll leave?” Derek glares back at him, clenching his jaw as he arches a judgemental brow up, green unimpressed eyes looking up and down his body.

Stiles blinks a few times trying to deceiver the lanuage of Derek's brows before realizing he's hinting at their compromising position, his hands still fisted onto Derek's belt. Stiles looks back at him with a smug smile on his lips, shifting on his feet but refusing to let go.

“No, not at all Scott. Stiles has been waiting for you.” Derek says condescendly, glaring back at him before pushing against his chest and standing up straighter, though Stiles doesn't let him go just yet.

They stand there eye to eye now, the dirty look Derek's giving him making him contemplate if he should tell Scott he needs to settle some unsolved business before dragging Derek away to finish off what they started in private.

“Oh yeah, to catch up and stuff. Stiles do you mind? I have to change out of these clothes.” Scotts voice interrupts him out of his vivid thoughts. Stiles sighs deeply, taking another step back and reluctantly letting Derek go and walk away, his fangs retracting automatically in Scotts presence.  

He makes sure to never break his gaze away from Derek's though, tracking Derek leave the room, the promise to fulfill where they left off silently communicating between their shared searing, lingering looks. He clears his throat.

“No not at all. We have a lot to talk about.” Scott smirked, walking over to Stiles and putting an arm around him. Stiles tries hard not to reflectively flinch from his touch.

“Yeah of course bro, this way.” Scott leads Stiles to his room on the first floor of the house. His room is just how Stiles would picture it.

Big glass walls, messy desk and messy plaid duvet covered bed, with band posters and pictures covering one entire wall. Scott changes and walks out from his bathroom, with a light blue shirt, and grey sweatpants.

Sitting on Scott's bed, Stiles study’s Scott's face as he sits down next to him, blinking rapidly, a nervous habit Stiles picked up on when they were kids. Scott clears his throat,

“So, where do I even begin?” Stiles smirks,

“Dude, how did we both manage to die on the same day? That’s what I want to know.” Scott laughs, wiping at his eyes,

“I know bro, it's crazy! I guess I should start out with the night at the lake.” He listens intently as Scott explains how they happened to be in the middle of a territory fight that night, between a rogue werewolf, who Scott later found out was Peter, and a hunter.

“What!” Stiles cries outraged but Scott bites his lip and nods.

“I know right but let me finish…” Scott explains how he was bitten by mistake, that Peter actually mistaken them for hunters that night, biting and turning Scott in the process. He finds out that Beacon Hills had a high percentage of hunters, humans, who would use magic to kill off other supernatural creatures who crossed into their territory.

“No way!” Stiles says, surprised that he was not able to pick up on that when he was a human.

“Yeah dude! Beacon Hills were full of them. Actually, they had almost destroyed Derek’s pack, the Hales, centuries ago! They tried to burn their entire house down with everyone in it. It happened during the war, when lycanthropes had been declared extinct or so we were told.”

He swallowed hard, remembering, wondering why the war was always such a vague subject in school. The night they were turned, Peter returned to Beacon Hills to make an alliance with the town's counsel but they had set up a trap. Hence, why Scott was killed that night when Peter mistaken them for hunters.

He grabs at his hair,

“Well, if Peter had been set up than he must have known what Vampire turned me? Scott, I ran after you guys for hours! I should've died that night but a Vampire saved me! I need to know who it was.” Scott slouches back on his bed,

“Dude, Peter was ambushed. I doubt he bothered to find out who it was but by all means if you want to ask him, go right ahead. He’s an ass though. I doubt he’d tell you anything, especially because you’re a Vampire.” Scott shrugs. Sighing deeply in frustration, he tries to calm down his anger. Peter fucking Hale. He was going to kill him.

“Scott, how could you not have killed Peter for turning you? You gave up your entire life, your family, your friends?” Stiles searches Scott’s eyes for answers as Scott sits up, looking out of his window to the pouring rain.

“Trust me. I did. I fought him and almost killed him but then I changed…” Scott looks at Stiles as his eyes change to a deep color of red. “I became an Alpha. A true Alpha. It changed everything...but I kept it hidden. Stiles, werewolves are extinct for a reason. Tensions between our kind, Hunters, and Vampires still exist. If word got out about us….” Stiles knew without Scott needing to explain.

“Extinction. I get it, but why return now? After so long?” He needed to know what Derek’s real ulterior motive involving him was for. Scott clears his throat.

“Stiles I never left. I never left Beacon Hills. I kept my true form hidden and I stayed to watch over my mom and your dad until their last days…” Scott chokes up and it has to be the most heartbreaking thing Stiles has ever heard. The tears, silently spilling from Scotts brown eyes. He wipes them away hurriedly, looking down at his hands.

His eyes water too but he assumes if there was ever a time to awkwardly burst into tears he would choose this moment. The whole teary thing was still so strange to him but he knows Scott wouldn't judge him for it so he puts a supporting arm over his childhood best friend as he says,

“I can’t even imagine how hard that must have been for you Scott. You don’t know how much that means to me…” Scott sniffs, nodding his head, still looking down at his hands, before swallowing and continuing to explain,

“I told him Stiles. I told your dad. I know you might hate me for it but I had to. He needed to know. He had been suffering for months, years, even. My mother had fallen in love with him. I wanted to stop his suffering so that our parents could live a fulfilled life. He was shocked but after a couple of months he accepted it. Knew you were out there somewhere and he lived on Stiles. He married my mom and they lived together until their last days. It was beautiful.” Scott glances at him with a teary filled gaze and looks back down.

Stiles huffs out a laugh as he hangs his head, unable to speak, the tears numbly rolling down his cheeks.

“Scott…I. I’m so happy. I could die.” He means it. He's been through hell and back so many times he's lost count. He's spent so much time dwelling in his guilt, he'd thought he'd never be able to fill the void in his life that Scott and his dad had left behind.

Feeling so empty most of the time that the sole purpose of the gun he'd put into his mouth on many occasion was to fuel something inside of him, to feel something, anything at all. The explosive pain from the bullet hittinng the back of his throat sickly satisfiying. Though, the release of the trigger did not bring the promise of relief from his misery, only the haunting last moments of his old life, his Vampiric curse forcing him to open his eyes and face his hollow, immortalized existence. 

Scotts laughing, knocking their shoulders together but Stiles couldn't feel it. The happiness in him had died a long time ago. There were only questions racing through his mind now, wondering if this was even real or perhaps some cruel joke. He had so much to say but he just couldn't form the words, though when he glances at Scotts smiling face, the words just come pouring out of him.

“Scott, I…I’m so sorry! I thought you were dead!” Stiles launches himself into Scott’s arms hugging him tightly to his chest, needing to feel him in his arms to confirm that this was real. He continues openingly sobbing as he says. “I’ve missed you so much!”

Scott hugs him back as they both sniff and wipe at their eyes. After a minute Stiles releases him from his hold, calmed down a bit, he continues rambling, hoping this sudden cathartic moment allows him to keep forming the words that have been kept hidden within him for so many years.

“I thought my dad would hate me for what happened. Losing you...For what I…I had become so I ran away. The last time I saw him, he was with a shotgun. I thought he’d hate me if he ever found out.” Scott smirked sadly, rubbing his back, something his dad would do when he was upset and it does nothing to stop the tears.

“Stiles he didn’t care. He searched for you for years. Nearly got himself killed a few times. I couldn’t keep it hidden from him any longer. In the end, he felt relieved.” Stiles nods his head and sighs deeply, roughly wiping away the annoying tears that seem never ending.

“I can’t believe our parents got married. I’m so happy he moved on from my mom.” He nearly chokes up again but he swallows the lump in his throat as he looks at Scotts dorky smile. “We’re brothers Scott!” Scott laughs and says sarcastically,

“Yeah, turned natural born enemies! It's so awesome!” Stiles nudges his arm as they both laugh. Stiles wipes at his eyes,

“God, look at us. I don’t know if we have the worst or best luck in the world. Our lives are literally a universal joke.” Scott sighs,

“I know right! It’s crazy but I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s like fate.” He nods though he has never believed in it, not after witnessing the horrors that he has seen. He clears his throat again, trying not to let his mind wander into forbidden territory, he changes the topic.

“Well, now that you’re a werewolf, Alpha, at that, how does that work with Derek’s pack dynamic?” Scott explains to him how Derek insisted he stay with his pack. Derek wasn’t as cold hearted as he seemed. He was like a brother to Scott and from a big family that welcomed him with open arms. Throughout the years, Scott would send letters to them and when it was time, after their parents passing, Scott joined them in South Africa, where the majority of the Hale pack lived in hiding.

Stiles felt somewhat bad for noting that in the back of his mind, but he also had a family to protect. The information Scott was giving to him might be vital for later down the road, incase Derek tries to turn on him.

Over all though, Scott was pretty vague with the information he gave, only bragging on about a werefox named Kira he had fallen in love with and planned on marrying. Stiles wanted to be genuinely happy for Scott but couldn’t help his nagging thoughts constantly questioning Derek’s motive.

Surely, being associated to Scott wasn’t the only reason. Even he wouldn’t trust an alliance based on that alone. Yes he had name recognition, but that couldn’t be the only reason Derek would go to such great lengths to tie himself to Stiles. He needed answers and the more he talked to Scott the more apparent it was that there was a missing link.

Stiles hangout with Scott lasted until the wee hours into the night.

Getting to know one another was obviously a lot more complicated than when they were human. But Scott was his best friend for a reason and being able to read him like a book was just one of his many annoying traits that he excelled in.

Stiles didn’t know why he was so good at it but by the end of the night he had found himself confessing a lot of things he knew he was going to regret later. Hoping Scott wouldn’t use any of it against him.

Scott showed him out, telling him to follow the dirt road that led to the house and to the main road home, bear hugging him. Picking him up like he was light as a feather had him remembering his best friend, brother, was in fact an actual badass alpha who could crush Stiles with his bare hands.

He was impressed, changed back into his original clothes with Betty dangling from his hands, he walks back into the dark pouring rain, following the driveway path from the house. He hadn’t met many supernatural beings who were equal, if not, stronger than he was.

He’s even met different type of shape-shifters before but none of them ever came close to matching a Vampire's strength, let alone his own. No wonder why there were only a few of them, if there was anything Vampires hated more than losing out on a meal it was having actual rivalries.

So, back to his predicament.

To kill or not to kill Derek Hale and his entire pack. Normally, he’d love to make Derek suffer, killing his entire pack, draining them of all their blood, and forcing him to watch but logically Derek’s pack were far too much of a liability.

They could easily kill one of his own. Forcing him to live eternally in guilt, along with the recurring fear of running out of Derek’s blood bags, losing Scott, ridding the world of the beauty that is Derek Hale, his ass, and potentially the best sex he could ever have, was weighing heavily on him.

Basically, his situation was far too complicated right now and he reluctantly had to wait to find more ammunition to use before ending all their lives. But don’t worry, Stiles never let his prey stray too far, it was only a matter of time…

He halts, listening into their movements before seeing the two wolves appear in front of him. The black massive wolf with red eyes was undoubtedly Derek but the silver one with electric blue eyes, he wasn’t so sure about. Ah, never mind, the ground-shaking snarl sent towards his direction has him knowing in an instant.

“Peter. I’d say it was nice to see you too but then I’d be lying…” Peter growls, low and threatening with his hair standing up on end, looking ready to pounce before Derek glances at him and stops immediately.

Staring at Stiles with his unnerving red eyes; Derek’s wolf jumps.

Transforming to defend himself, Stiles is pleasantly surprised when Derek, in human form, lands right in front of him. Inches apart, leaving him breathless as his eyes and fangs automatically retract.

Derek’s shoulders are bare and temptingly suggestive of the rest of his body. He strains not to look, instead, searching his eyes.

Derek’s red eyes glow back at him, the tension in the air suffocating as his nose flares, grabbing Stiles face, he leans into Stiles’s neck, rubbing and sniffing into it.

He's tense but the feeling of soft lips brushing against his skin, makes him moan, eyes rolling back, leaning into the steamy touch before it's completely gone and Stiles is staring back at nothing but the dark, rainy road ahead.

Sighing out a shaky breath, Stiles looks back, searching for the two wolves, but he’s alone.

Smiling stupidly to himself the rest of the way home with a hand rubbing at the junction between his neck and shoulder, reeling in the feeling of those forbidden soft lips that he so desperately longs for.

Arriving home, Stiles immediately smells blood, running to the source, already dead, lying face down on the stained blood carpet in his formal living room.

“Lydia?....”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek's Mansion: http://www.extravaganzi.com/7-9-million-magnificent-custom-home-186-at-martis-camp/
> 
> Wet Stiles;) Inspired outfit:http://darachmoon.tumblr.com/post/83040019118/wetstiles-requested-by-beacon-hills-university
> 
> Dereks outfit: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/444026844492024200/
> 
> Ericas outfit: http://gagedaily.tumblr.com/post/132661670632/gage-golightly-attends-the-fallout-4-video-game
> 
> Cora's outfit: http://www.justjared.com/photo-gallery/3163772/adelaide-kane-cameron-monaghan-odeya-rush-sin-city-game-launch-sdcc-10/
> 
> Stiles estate inspired by this Mansion:  
> http://myfancyhouse.com/2013/04/21/majestic-french-chateau-in-texas/
> 
>  


	4. Crimson Poison

“Lydia?....” Stiles says wearily. Sat on the couch in the dark room, fire eliminating her face grimly as the crimson blood drips from her mouth and down the front side of her flower pattern dress.

Lydia’s eyes never leave her prey as she lifts up her bloodied hand and holds out a delicate silver chain, the silver cross bouncing and glittering in the light.

He sighs deeply, roughly running a hand through his hair, he walks over and slumps down on the couch opposite of her.

“Has the catholic church sent us one of their presents again? What a pleasant surprise. They are so rare now a days.” Lydia snorts and smiles looking up at him slyly,

“Well you know me, any contribution I can give to ridding the world of religious conversion is something that I pride myself greatly on.” He smirks,

“Lydia you know, if this was a present from one of your admirers I have to say that I’m truly impressed. Wish I would've thought of it first.” Lydia laughs, rolling her eyes as she says,

“Please Stiles, you spoil me enough. But now that you mention it, I did feel overly delighted watching the life drain from his eyes. It’s as if someone sent him to me on purpose.” He frowns knowing how much Lydia hates the human religion, what they did to her…

Lydia clears her throat, “But I have to say even the Catholic Church have better manners than this. At least they come to the front door. I found him trying to sneak his way in through the yard. I couldn’t believe my eyes, not even after I had ripped out his heart with my fangs.” He smirks as he shakes his head,

“This town never seizes to amaze me…” Derek’s kiss replays in his head as he bites his lip. _Focus_ Stiles. Shaking his head he says,

“Did you find anything else on him?” Lydia shrugs,

“Hunters knife, revolver, obviously useless against us, so I can only assume he was either set up or stumbled upon the wrong house.”

“Hmmm…“ He stands and walks over to the corpse, using his foot to turn the guys body over to see if he recognizes him. He’s young, gaunt face, blonde, blue sunken eyes, probably in his late teens. He can still smell the faint smoke on his clothes, in dirt covered hunters gear, all the signs so convenient. A truly pathetic move.

“It’s a set up. Hunters are smart. They don’t travel alone so I wouldn’t put it past them to send in a young recruit to see who was living in this house. When he doesn’t return, it should only be a matter of time before whoever sent him comes looking for us. We need to warn the others,” He says giving Lydia a pointed look before picking up the body and flinging it over his shoulder. Lydia nods, looking at the body in disgust,

“Sick bastards.” Stiles sighs,

“Thank you for handling it Lydia. Want to go into town? Drinks are on me.” Lydia smirks through her bloody fangs,

“Deal,” and then Lydia’s gone, already out the door. He sighs deeply, letting the severity of the situation settle in as he adjusts the body and heads down towards the crematory in the cellar.

Stiles stares through the slit of plexiglass, watching as the flames in gulf the body, lost in his thoughts of the past. His younger self a haunting face, stumbling through the woods, lost and starved as demons looked on, whispering evil taunts and laughing into his ears. Hunger and pain the only things keeping him alive. He could’ve very likely been this boy, used, as someone’s sick pawn. Smirking he rolls his eyes, stupid, stupid boy if only he knew.

The kids easily destructible, human bones nothing more than embers and smoke now.  Walking out, that incessant itch crawls under his skin in full force, making his hands twitch with the feral need to kill.

Hurrying up to his room he showers and changes into his self-fitting, hunter’s gear. An all black jumpsuit with aerodynamic water resistant, long sleeves shirt, leather covered patting, black leather boots and gun holster. He walks out of his room just in time to see Jackson walking down the hallway.

“Heyyy Stilinski. You're looking…murderous.” He smirks at Jacksons typical backhanded compliment which usually happens right before asking a favor so he says,

“Thanks Whittemore. What do you want?” They walk together in sync, heading back down the hallway.

Jackson smirked, “Oh you know, just checking up on my favorite Stilinski. Lydia tells me you're going into town and Danny and I want to tag along.” Stiles quirks an eyebrow up at him,

“Uh sure, if you guys behave yourselves? We just moved in. I don’t want to make a spectacle of us.” Jackson smiles sweetly, God, he was going to regret this.

“Of course. We’ll be on our best behavior.” Stiles smirks and shakes his head. Lies.

“Have you heard from Allison and Isaac?” Jackson shrugs,

“No, they're probably fucking each others brains out somewhere.” He laughs,

“Ugh, you're terrible Whittemore.” Jackson forwards his brows,

“I wasn’t trying to be funny.” Stiles just shakes his head, smiling at him, as they walk towards the living room, hearing Lydia’s laugh echo through the hallway. Opening the doors to the formal living room, Lydia, Danny, Allison, and Isaac are all sitting around the fireplace.

“Oh god, Not you guys too!” Jackson says, overdramatically.

Stiles gasps, “I knew it! You set me up! You asshole!”

Allison smiles. “Surprise!” Allison says, walking over to give Stiles a peck on the cheek.

Allison hugs Jackson too, holding his hand as she turns to Stiles and says,

“This is the clan's last night all together! We need to go out and have some fun!” He scoffs, as he arches his brow up at her,

“Your definition of fun Allison, is taste testing all the college kids at the bar. We need to stay under cover ok? No one is allowed to kill anyone tonight. As I’m sure Lydia has told you guys, we were set up and the last thing I want is to reinforce what those assholes think of us.” Jackson rolls his eyes,

“Oh please, the sheer level of our ridiculous combined attractiveness, is enough to render any opponent helpless.” Jackson says with a sly smirk.

"I agree. I mean look at us?” Lydia says, walking over to Jackson and putting a hand over his shoulder, like a tag team. He sighs, unable to resist their squinty model stares.  A night of sex, drugs and rock'n roll might just be what the doctor ordered. To relish in the teenage anonymity that plagues their lives, so it's been decided. 

“Well…Fuck it! I need a drink. Let's go!”

Everyone whoops as if they just scored a goal as Allison jumps into Stiles’s arms hugging him tightly before linking arms with Isaac. Unable to keep the smile off his face, he watches his clan leave through the front doors, Jackson, Lydia, and Danny in one car, and Stiles, Allison, and Isaac in another.

Driving through Beacon Hills traffic in his navy blue jeep wrangler, Stiles leads the clan to town, feeling slightly agitated, his fingers drum on the steering wheel, watching as the new and improved skyscrapers of Beacon Hills pass them by.

“Jeez, I have no idea where I am.” He says under his breath.

“Has it changed much since you’ve been here?” Allison asks from the back seat. Stopping at a red light, Stiles looks around at all the new buildings,

“Oh yeah definitely, there was literally nothing here. Just some old diners and stores. Beacon Hills didn’t even have a movie theater...”

“You were alive when there were movie theaters? God, your old.” Isaac says teasingly. He laughs,

“You say that now, but 500 years is nothing my friend.”

“Yeah, Isaac some of us actually were alive when virtual reality wasn’t invented and we couldn’t 3d print whatever we wanted by whim.” Allison says annoyed.

“Oh yeah, I forgot your almost the same age. Immortality has never looked so good...” Isaac says slyly, the sound of Allison and Isaac kissing makes him scrunch up his nose,

“Eck god, can you not? I’m going to barf! Shit!” Slamming down on the brakes with all his might, Allison and Isaac in the back gasps. Stiles honks at a group of drunk college guys walking across the street, nearly inches away from getting run over by Stiles’s jeep.

“Hey! Watch it!” He yells out the window, fangs ready to rip into someone's flesh as the group of guys laugh and flip Stiles off as they drunkenly walk to the other side of the street to the next bar.

“Fucking morons! What is wrong with them?” The back erupts with laughter. He sighs deeply, calming himself his fangs retract, shaking hands gripping the wheel a little too tightly, he forces himself to continue driving down the road. Stiles makes quick to park, getting out to meet up with Jackson, Lydia, and Danny.

"It should be this way.." Lydia says, leading the Vampire clan to the hip new spot Stiles hadn't even known existed until Lydia texted him the address.

They walk down an empty alleyway eliminated by torchlight, approaching the huge metal sliding door, Nyx, the Goddess of night iridescent symbol, glittering back at their inhuman eyes, engraved into the medal.

“Let me do the talking.” Lydia says,unzipping her black widow's suit a little more to reveal her cleavage, she grabs Allison’s hand, dressed in a white body-curving jumpsuit, and brings her to the front. He rolls his eyes and smirks, as Lydia knocks on the door loudly, the base thrumming techno music vibrating through the medal.

The door slides open in an instant, revealing an androgynous feline bouncer, looking at them up and down.

“Oh, thank god…” Lydia says. The feline bouncer forwards its brows in confusion at her but she's already got it by the collar of it's black shirt, staring into its golden slitted eyes, she says in a stern voice,

“Let us in.” And in an instant the metal door swings open, thanks to Lydia’s mind compulsion. They make their way through the sweaty crowded bodies of Beacon Hill’s youth.

Sighing deeply when they make their way to the bar, Stiles runs a hand through his hair, scoping out the club for any suspecting beings. Marking exists and windows incase of an emergency, he eyes Lydia who nods and smiles at him.

Walking over to him and handing him a bloody mary, Lydia leans in to whisper into his ear,

“Relax babe. The most important parties to attend are the ones your not invited to.”

Stiles sighs, “Yeah? Well, some people don’t always follow your etiquette Lydia. Look around. This place is designed for the cursed and wicked.” He gulps down the rest of his drink. Stiles could literally feel the dark negative energy radiating off the crowd in waves. This club was supernaturally exclusive, meaning anything and anyone was allowed to enter, which could be quite the deadly mix.

Lydia shrugs, “Never stopped us before? Let's get you another drink.” Lydia orders them each 3 shots,

“Ready?” Lydia asks with a wicked grin. Stiles winks back.

“Ready when you are.”

“One, Two, Three!” Stiles and Lydia both down their shots in seconds.

"Ha! Yes! Beat you again!" Lydia laughs out loud as Stiles sticks his tongue out at her, she only managed to beat him by mere nanoseconds. Each of them grab lime slices to suck on.

Jackson comes over to them leaning over Stiles’s shoulder to look at his shots,

“Uh oh. Three vodka shots in a row? Lydia you better watch out for this one. Stilinski’s a light weight.”

“Fuck off Whittemore!” He yells as Lydia laughs, pulling his hand onto the dance floor.

Unlike mortal clubs, supernatural clubs didn’t have flashing lights beaming everywhere, which can hurt sensitive inhuman eyes. No, rather opting for changing colored, soft florescent lights and dimly lit candles.

This place although particularly old, red bricked, and rustic had one hell of a sound system. Seemly vibrating the floors, with its heavy bass, and harmonic sounds, it was as if the bodies of people were moving as one. Swaying and lost Stiles suddenly felt a chill run down his body.

Something felt off?

Looking around to people smiling and dancing, he lets it go, still in trance with the music.

Hours must pass by as Stiles and Lydia dance with numbers of guys and girls, it's all just a blur until he see’s glowing red eyes moving through the crowd.

The crowd parts like the barren sea as it’s form comes into view, devil horns curled perfectly on top of its head, cladded in a skimpy red silk, one piece, bust practically bursting at the seams with long silver hair down her winged back. He can only stare as the Succubus makes its way straight towards him.

Looking at Lydia who’s completely lost in the music, grinding against some blonde muscled dude, Stiles gasps as his hands being pulled back and he’s coming face to face with the demon, who’s eyeing him suspiciously.

“Vampire, It’s not often that I stumble upon someone like you, in a place like this…” The Succubus smiles slyly, sucking from a vapor-pen, and blowing the watermelon scented smoke into his face.

“The names Stiles. Stiles Stilinski.” He says, loudly over the music.

“Oh? Sounds familiar. Have we met before?” The Succubus says in his ear. He shivers.

“Yeah, you might of heard of me.” He shrugs, slightly uncomfortable with the way the Succubus is eyeing him. Leaning in to talk to him she says,

“I don’t mean to offend but there’s something about you, makes me feel like you need some help that only someone like me, can give you…” Stiles forwards his brows in confusion,

“I don’t know about that….”

“Shhh, don’t you worry, we’ll get right to work.” The Succubus says before shes grabbing his collar and kissing him deeply, sending an electrical current throughout his body. Gasping, he pulls away, feeling his body heat up in an instant, the Succubus saunters away and over to Lydia, giving her a chaste kiss on the lips too before he can stop her and disappears into the crowd.

“Shit.” Stiles says breathlessly, the room swirls, feeling the blood leave his head and down to his cock.

Looking at Lydia’s blurred out form, he squints and sees her and the muscled guy literally down each other’s throats. Stiles groans when a guy comes up behind him and grabs his hips. With the magic of the Succubus running through his veins, he's unable to hold back, grinding back shamelessly.

Feeling his fangs elongate against his will, Stiles turns around, looking at the young guys face, dark hair, tanned skin and just his type. The guy grabs him and brings their bodies closer. He leans in for a kiss, instantly regretting it as the guy forces his tongue down his throat.

The kiss is all wrong, there’s no scruff rubbing against his skin or nipping at his lips, or mouth watering aroma. Snarling, Stiles pushes away and grabs a handful of the guys hair, inches away from his throat, he smirks, looking around and spotting the bathroom, dragging the guy away from the dance floor for some privacy.

Pushing him into the bathroom the guy huffs out a breath as Stiles pushes him up against one of the stalls. Grabbing a fist full of his hair Stiles pulls his head back to reveal more of his neck, his fangs sinking into the guy's flesh, gulping down mouth full’s of his blood in seconds.

He can feel the guy struggling underneath his hold but it’s really the overwhelming nauseousness that makes him stop, gagging, the guy cries out and runs out of the bathroom for his life.

Stiles gags barely making it to the toilet before he’s falling onto his knees and throwing up his guts. It seems like it lasts for hours until he’s sitting back on the ground, disoriented and feeling like complete shit.

Flushing and walking back out of the stalls, Stiles splashes cold water on his face, looking at his dark circled eyes in his reflection. For a moment he's unable to recognize himself, the bad lighting making him appear years older. The door swinging closed behind him, thankfully distracting him from having another existential crisis.

The drunk, happy gay couple come in laughing as they stand near by, a few sinks away. One of their hands reaches into skin tight jeans for a wallet and from inside take out a small bag of cocaine.

Stiles smirked, standing up straighter to watch them roll up dollar bills and snort the straight credit card lines right off the bathroom sink. He saunters over, his eyes already capturing their gazes into a trance like mind compulsion.

Both of them still as he snatches one of their rolled up dollar bills to finish the last three lines for them. His eyes roll back when the euphoric high hits him, snorting one last time before opening his hazy eyes and walking out, heading straight back to the bar.

Ordering a glass of whiskey, Stiles sits on one of the bar stools with his head in his hands. Enchanted green eyes and sexy tan, muscled scorching skin, rubbing against him, _fucking_ into him, clouding his thoughts. Stiles bites his lip until he draws blood, aching to moan out the forbidden name from his lips before his dream like hallucination gets interrupted.

“There you are!” Lydia calls out, when Stiles squints at her, her suit’s completely unzipped and she’s practically falling over herself. He stands instantly, grabbing her before she falls clumsily to the ground.

“Stiles! Where did you go?” He sighs, wiping the hair away from her face,

“To the bathroom. Are you feeling alright?” Lydia nods as he helps her onto the stool next to him. The bartender leaves a glass of water on the bar, sending a small smile. Stiles nods back at him in thanks.

“Lydia?” He watches her take a long sip from her glass, before catching his concerned gaze and rolling her eyes,

“I’m fine! I’m fine Stiles.” She slurs out in frustration which has him forwarding his brows with even more concern.

“I just…I want..I want Peter.” Lydia groans, he puts an arm around her shoulder.

“Trying to forget about him?” Stiles asks all too knowingly. She nods, sighing deeply and zipping up her suit.

“If he wasn’t so good in bed, I’d totally have him replaced by now. Just no one seems to be…to match up.” Lydia pouts, he nods and smirks,

“Trust me Lydia, I know, but those Hales are nothing but trouble.” She sighs again,

“I know. I hate him.” Stiles laughs,

“Have you heard from the others?” Lydia nods her head, taking her phone out,

“Jackson took everyone home. They left like two hours ago.”

“What? What the hell?” Stiles pulls out his own phone and see’s 10 missed calls and texts of Jackson cursing at him.

“Well shit…” He sighs deeply. Lydia gasps,

“Fuck!”

“What! What happened!” Stiles asks, leaning over to look into her phone.

“I may or may not have drunk texted Peter to come get me…” It's Stiles turn to gasp as he looks at her with wide eyes.

“Lydia! You didn’t!” Lydia laughs, making him laugh too, thinking of Peter Hale catching Lydia dancing with that younger, good looking guy she was with earlier.

“How long ago was that?” He asks.

“Like two hours ago! Wait I need to text him back.”

“Oh. My. God. You're so screwed.” Stiles says biting his lip, laughing at Lydia’s wide eyes.

“Ohmygod. Stiles! He’s typing! He’s typing!!” Lydia grabs his arm, both of them bracing themselves for his text.

Ping! And Lydia’s face drops.

“No! No Lydia! Don’t tell me he’s been waiting outside this whole time!” Stiles shouts, nearly jumping out of his seat in apprehension. Lydia looks back at him and then back at her phone.

“It says to come outside…” Stiles eyes widen and then he’s bursting out laughing as Lydia face palms.

“Uh oh. Someone’s in trouble now.” He says, teasingly.

“Shut up Stiles! You know you're coming with me right?” Lydia says smirking.

“What? I have a car. I can drive home. I can drive _you_ home. I don’t know why Peter would wait...” She rolls her eyes,

“Stiles you’re literally just as wasted as I am. There’s no way you're driving home tonight.” He stands offended,

“Am not!” Stiles smirks as he sways a little. “Ok maybe a little. But I can drive home perfectly fine!” Lydia rolls her eyes for the hundredth time and grabs his arm, dragging him away from the bar.

“Wait…Lydia!” He pouts until their outside and walking back down the dark foggy alleyway. When Stiles and Lydia make it to the sidewalk, they immediately spot the black Rolls Royce phantom head beams, penetrating through the thick fog.

Stiles scoffs, “Show off…”

“Let's go.” Lydia says pulling him over to the passenger side of the car. The door swings open and by the electric blue eyes glaring at them, Peter was pissed. Grabbing Lydia’s arm away from Stiles, he snarls loudly,

“Where the hell were you?” To her face. Before she can respond Stiles sees red and transforms, punching Peter in the face.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” He yells. Lydia tries to stand in front of him before Peters aggressively pushing her out of the way and pouncing at him, which makes Stiles even more infuriated.

Baring his fangs, he dodges Peter’s attack and grabs his arm, twisting it at an unnatural angle, breaking his arm in half before pushing him to the ground. Peter snarls loudly and surprisingly lunges back at him, too fast for his intoxicating senses to catch, as he kicks Stiles's feet from under him. He trips and slams his head against the ground. Peter picks him up by his collar but before he’s able to touch Stiles again, Lydia grabs him by his shirt and pins him against the car.

“Enough!” Lydia yells. Holding Peters broken arm against his back. Peter growls, but Lydia flexes her hand and he whimpers, panting, he changes back into his human form. Huffing out a laugh, Peter says,

“Alright, alright! I’ll keep my hands to myself!” Lydia lets him go as she turns and glares back at him.

“You too Stiles.” He huffs out a frustrated breath and nods getting up, he winces, feeling the back of his head, the rare sight of his own blood covering his hand greets him. He rolls his eyes, hastily wiping his hand on his pants to get rid of the evidence, not wanting Peter to get any self-satisfaction from catching him off guard. 

Lydia makes Peter and him sit on opposite sides of her as Peters suave chauffeur drives them back to the Hales estate. Stiles wants to protest but it’s not like he can get his jeep so he begrudgingly keeps quiet, seething in the back in the awkward silence. He sighs deeply, wanting so badly to reach over Lydia and rip Peter's throat out.

When they finally get to the house, he gets out quickly, not bothering to wait to be led inside and opens the garage door into the house, trying to put as much distance between him and Derek's asshole of an uncle. He walks down the hallway, to the kitchen and searches the cabinets for a glass.

“I don’t care! If you ever touch him again, I’ll rip out your spleen from your ass! Now go to your room!” Lydia whispers angrily, as her and Peters steps come down the hall. He smirks, retrieving a glass from the cabinet and fills his cup with water from the sinks filter. Just as Lydia’s heels walk into the kitchen Stiles turns around. Sighing deeply, Lydia walks up to him and gives him a hug.

“Thank you Stiles. I’m not mad at you.” He nods against her shoulder and leans back.

“Your welcome.” Lydia gives him a small smile, which he returns.

“I’ll make him pay later tonight. Don’t you worry.” Lydia says with a determined smirk. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head,

“I don’t want to know.” Lydia laughs, as the light from the kitchen gets turned on.

They both turn, as Derek’s sleepy form comes into view, pillow headed hair and shirtless, in a pair of happy trail showing, grey sweatpants. Stiles mouth instantly waters. Lydia looks back at him with a knowing smirk on her face.

“Stiles. What the hell are you guys doing here? Do you know what time it is?” Derek says, looking annoyed.

“Well ummm...” Lydia hits his stomach as his eyes snap back and see’s a beautiful melanin rich girl walk past Derek to grab a glass, in nothing but a robe. A Robe…

Stiles gapes. The girl stalls, noticing she’s being stared at.

“Uh Hi?” The girl says, forwarding her brows in confusion. Lydia gives him the look, as he huffs out a laugh. He only gets in three steps before Lydia’s holding him back.

“RUN!” Lydia yells before Stiles is transforming and pushing Lydia out the way to get his hands around the girl’s neck.

“Braeden get back!” Derek yells. The girl jumps, dropping the glass on the floor and runs over to Derek who holds her behind him.

“Who is she! Derek! Huh? What the fuck is she doing here!” Stiles snarls, trying to lunge towards Derek but Lydia's standing in the way.

“Stiles please! Calm down!” Lydia yells, pushing him up against the counter. Waking up the entire house, the light on the hallway turns on and all the wolves in Derek’s pack come running out of their rooms.

“Stiles?” Scott says, from across the kitchen.

“Let me go! Let go of me Lydia!” He yells, foaming at the mouth but she doesn’t move. 

“Derek! You fucking asshole!” Cora yells, running over to him, wiping the unnoticed blood from his mouth, his fangs digging into the bottom of his lip.  Scott comes over too, looking at Stiles with concern.

“It’s not my fault! I didn’t bring him here! Peter did!” Derek yells, growling as Peter saunters into the room with a smirk on his face,

“Their a package deal. It’s not my fault that someone doesn’t know how to keep it in their pants.”

Derek snarls, punching Peter in the face, but before the two are able to fight Cora and the rest of the pack come running over to hold them back.

Stiles can’t help but laugh out loud, “Let me at him! _Lydia_!” He needed to teach Derek who he _belongs_ to. 

Lydia shakes her head, “No! Stiles you're drunk!” Scott looks between him and Derek and yells,

“STOP!” In the most alpha like voice Stiles has ever heard as everyone stops suddenly.

“Everyone out! Except for Derek and Stiles! Now!” The other wolves leave, including Derek’s one nightstand as Lydia tenses.

“It’s alright Lydia. I can handle it.” Scott says, walking up towards her. Stiles is too busy trying to get from under her hold that when she leaves, he walks right into Scott's punch, nearly blacking out in the process. Scott holds him by the collar of his shirt, keeping him upright as Stiles's vision comes back into focus.

"Scott... " Derek growls out warningly.

“You need to go Stiles. _Now_.” Scott's stern voice was like ice down his back, cooling him down enough to properly draw in his attention. He pushes Scott away, huffing out a laugh, he wipes the blood from his mouth, glaring past Scott and at Derek for getting him in trouble. He walks out of the kitchen and down the stairs to the front door. Before Stiles is able to open the door Scotts torn voice reaches his ears.

“What is wrong with you!” Its not directed at him but it might as well be.

He hangs his head and walks out. The run back to his estate is a blur, making his way into his room someone calls his name stilling him in his tracks . From down the hallway, Allison comes running out of her room dressed in a white slip.

“Stiles your back! Oh no, what happened?” Allison says, grabbing his face to expect his eye. Stiles flinches from her touch.

“Nothing that I can't heal from. I’m fine Allison, really.” Allison sighs deeply,

“Well you don’t look fine Stiles. Come on, I’ll help patch you up.” Unable to resists Allison’s sweet dimpled smile Stiles lets her into his room. Walking straight into the bathroom, he sits up on the sinks marble counter in a daze as Allison follows, closing the door from behind her.

“Did you notice the French door? I sent someone in here to fix the glass pane.” Her lighthearted voice, sounding forced even through Stiles's hazy cognition. Turning around, her laser eye focus feels like its piercing through his very soul, his façade cracking in seconds as he winces, looking back down at the floor. Allison is by his side in an instant, hugging him tightly to her chest.

“It’s alright Stiles. I know lately it’s been really hard for you.” He lets out a shaky breath, sinking into her hold. Allison suddenly sits back, holding his chin in her hands, she gasps, wiping at the unnoticed tears on his cheeks.

“It’s turned on isn’t it?” Allison says with finality. Stiles sniffs, wiping away the tears, embarrassed.

“No I…it can’t be.” He says, shaking his head. There was no way Stiles humanity was turned on. He was sure of it. The constant itch he feels to kill something reminds him of it daily. Allison sighs,

“I know from personal experience Stiles. When your humanity is turned on, it may seem difficult to separate your feelings. Love, lost, anger, desire, it can all blur into one urge. Hunger.”

He scoffs, “Yeah Allison, like I would intentionally turn on my humanity and boom, a rush of memories, rush of guilt! That sounds so amazing...”

Allison rolls her eyes, reaching down to the drawers of the sink and pulling out cotton pads, running them under the water.

“Close your eyes.” He closes his bruised eye and watches as Allison wipes at the dried blood, sighing deeply she says,

“I know it may seem overwhelming and I’m not saying it’s easy but when it’s on… you feel like you could do anything. Be anyone. Beautiful things are more beautiful. Everything’s more heightened, more alive…” Allison grabs for another cotton pad, watching her squeeze the remaining water out as he says,

“Exactly! Anger becomes rage. Sadness becomes despair, Grief. Loss. It can cripple you. Make you weak. If I let myself feel, all I will feel is pain!” He says, voice shaking. Allison gives him a knowing look, which has Stiles hanging his head in defeat. She cleans up his wound, kissing it as she holds his hand.

“Stiles, you don’t always have to be so strong. We are your friends! It’s ok if you share some of your weight with us sometimes. We can be strong together.”

He huffs out a laugh, “I don’t need friends. I need more alcohol.”

He doesn't mean to be such a dick but he's just so fucked up. He'd been alone for so long, adjusting to clan life had been one of the hardest things he's ever had to do.

No matter how thankful he is for them, he didn't feel like he could ever find the words to properly express himself. Instead he'd rather internalize his trauma by himself till the point of denial. Pushing down the issues inside of himself and numbing the pain so they couldn't tear him apart and make him a burden.

Allison gives him a pointed look,

“Fine! God, It’s hard for me to... let people in...” He sighs out a frustrated breath, still not sure why he feels this way but at least he's trying. Allisons smile widens,

“Yes Stiles! That’s it! See, it’s not so hard expressing your emotions.” He rolls his eyes,

“Don’t worry, the odds of me remembering this conversation are slim.” He said he was trying, not that he was any less of a dick. Allison laughs out loud, shaking her head at him.

“Ok well, will you remember to turn off the water when you’re done?” Stiles nods,

“Yes mom…”

“Good.” With that Allison leaves him a towel and kisses him goodnight, closing the door behind her. He waits a moment for Allison to walk out of his room before hopping off the counter, walking out and into his closet to retrieve his glass whiskey bottle.

Gulping mouthfuls of it down, he walks back and turns the water off and Jacuzzis jets on as he gets undressed and slides into his soapy bubble bath. Sighing deeply, he lets his muscles relax, closing his eyes, he meditates, reaching deep down into his black soul, Stiles searches for his switch. Nothing. He opens his eyes as Allison’s words play back in his head,

“Love, loss, anger, desire, it can all blur into one urge. _Hunger_.” He thinks back to earlier that night to the Succubus and how her magic affected his body, Lust, Desire, Anger… _Hunger_. Damn it! Why couldn't he just be some lame ass human being, with normal fucking emotions!

Scotts hurt voice echos through his mind. He could understand why Scott was disappointed in him, afterall being fucked up in the head wasn't necessarily the best brotherly material. He knew his father wouldn't be proud of the way he was acting around Scott. He was just a failure at life but hey, at least none of this was news to anyone.

His last moment with his dad standing just a few feet away from him, holding his shotgun, ready to shoot replays in his mind. 

If only he had stayed. He wouldn't be here. He'd have died that night. 

He swallows hard, his shaking hand lifting the bottle to his lips, eyes tearing as he takes another gulp of his whiskey.

Pain. Pain was all Stiles feels right now.

Tears roll down his cheeks and he takes another gulp.

Humanity. Humanity was a Vampire's greatest weakness.

He closes his eyes and drinks some more, gulping the rest of the whiskey down. Stiles was a Vampire. He was a predator. He enjoyed the hunt, the feed, the _kill_ …

And just like that Stiles felt nothing.

Laughing, he throws the empty whiskey glass bottle on the ground, watching as it breaks into hundreds of shards all over the floor. Settling into his bath with a huge fucking grin on his face because what most people fail to understand is the fact there is a liberty, a freedom, in the abyss of complete emotional shut down.

Stiles doesn’t remember how he got into bed that night but he has a vivid dream.

He's standing in the remains of a burned down house, in a huge backyard, he runs, the house falling apart around him. He runs into the safety of the woods, turning to watch the house aflame as it crumples down completely. Panting and scared he runs away through the forest. But Stiles couldn't feel the cold relief on his skin from the snow still cascading down lightly all around him.

He drops down on his knees in exhaustion, feeling as if he was burning from within. He looks up to see a giant tree blocking his view to the night sky. He stands, instinctively lifting up the Triskele pendant and putting it into the trees bark, watching as it dissolves into it, as if the Triskele was carved into the bark itself.

He places his hand over it, shaky fingers tracing one of its swirls before he's feeling an electrifying current run throughout his body.

It’s so strong, Stiles wakes up, gasping, already broken out in a cold sweat, his entire body shakes from the impact. Heart racing he gets up, getting dressed in his hunters gear and red hoodie, he grabs the pendant off his desk and as he's reaching for the French doors the doors to his bedroom rip open.

“Stiles wait!” Derek yells. He lets out a manic laugh, jumping down from his balcony and running off into the woods.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nyx, the Goddess of night symbol: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/560979697310033671/
> 
> Stiles estate:  
> http://myfancyhouse.com/2013/04/21/majestic-french-chateau-in-texas/
> 
> Dereks mansion:http://www.extravaganzi.com/7-9-million-magnificent-custom-home-186-at-martis-camp/
> 
> Lydia's Black Widow suit:https://www.pinterest.com/pin/105975397459079261/
> 
> Allison White Jumpsuit:https://www.pinterest.com/pin/373446994078586444/  
> Allisons Slip:https://www.pinterest.com/pin/326370304219941395/
> 
> Peters black Rolls Royce phantom: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/195202965074051726/


	5. Crimson Poison

 

Panting, the world slows down as he jumps, the wolf barely missing his ankle by mere inches as he back flips and lands, clawed hands and boots digging into the forest ground. As Stiles comes to a stop, he's face to face with Derek’s fully shifted wolf form.

Fangs bared and growling, the massive black wolf circles Stiles, blood crimson eyes, unmoving as it paces. Watching him pant, it licks its lips as he wipes the sweat from his brow.

“Your fast, I’ll give you that.” Stiles chokes out, trying to regain his breath, the wolf growls, fangs bared and drooling, stalking ever so closely to him, he stumbles back.

“My, my, grandma what big teeth you have…” The wolf growls deeply, hair on its back standing up, Stiles laughs, having way too much fun with his wolf jokes. He reaches into his pocket and takes out the Triskelion pendant. Waving it in the air like a dog treat he says,

“Looking for this, big bad wolf?” Stiles smirks. The wolf lunges towards him but he's already gone. Sliding right underneath its huge form, he makes a run for it again. He laughs at Derek snarling from behind him, but focuses knowing that this was his last chance to lose Derek once and for all.

To be honest, Stiles was actually worried he wasn’t going to make it. Derek was fucking fast ok? Stiles was literally putting in all his effort in order to just stay barely a foot ahead. Stiles. A fucking Vampire, was sweating. Sweating! He didn’t even know he could do that anymore!

He runs straight, hoping to god that his plan pulled through as he runs miles and miles back into Beacon Hills preserve. When they reach the edges of town he makes sure to put extra effort in running faster. He needed to get into town in order to disguise himself, hopefully losing Derek in the process amongst the hundreds of people and scents.

He literally throws himself into the crowd of farmer market buyers, listening as Derek’s wolf growls from behind him, unable to follow. He smirked, putting his red hood up and his head down,  he allows himself to get lost amongst the hundreds of bodies and fresh produce stands. 

Heart racing in his ears, he slows down to match the other pedestrians mindlessly lost in their own worlds. He briskly walks further into town, around corners and back alleyways aimlessly.

Once he’s sure he’s not being followed, Stiles takes his phone out of his pocket.

“Give me directions to the nearest occult library.”

In an instant, an address to the only surviving library in Beacon Hills appears on his screen. He lets his phone direct him where to go. He walks a few miles down, away from the new, polished modernly built skyscrapers of Beacon Hills. The deteriorating quality of the buildings around, painfully obvious. Broken glass and debris litter the streets, bullet holes, ash, and graffiti cover the old styled buildings, the leftover resemblance of the war torn town Beacon Hills once was.

Stiles remembers it well. Being the Sheriff's son, they had to move to rougher areas for his dad’s job and Beacon Hills just happened to be one of the worst ones. Thing is, with all the terrible crimes going on in Beacon Hills at the time, he flew under the radar, actually becoming good at picking up on his dad's detective, sheriff skills and becoming way too observant for his own good.

Which is why Stiles, with eventually Scotts help of course, made it their hobby to find out about the gang crimes and territory fights between the supernatural creatures in town or why some kids in their classes seemingly disappeared and never returned. What they later found out was that Beacon Hills was the perfect place in the middle of nowhere, where people came to die and die they did, frequently.

When Stiles approaches the old brick building, he sighs contently as memory of Scott and himself at the library reading comic books together come back to him. But Stiles was very aware that this wasn’t just some old library, it was the library of the occult. Mythical and magical spells and creatures written throughout history could be found at every turn.

Breaking the lock and pushing up the metal gate, revealing the cobwebbed wooden door and glass display, he kicks the door down, cautiously entering incase of a booby-trap or protection spells that might still be up. Transforming, he makes his way through the disheveled books and merchandise, walking through its alphabetical shelves, until his eyes land on an animus old door in one of the isles.

“Employees Only.”

Written on the dusty glass window, which Stiles punches through easily, reaching over and unlocking the door in seconds.

Once inside, he's meet with even more shelves of books, overwhelmed by the sight of the over flowing storage room he lets his instincts lead him where to go. Walking towards the back and immediately spotting the huge treasure chest, he walks over to it, breaking the lock easily, lifting the top, his eyes widen, spotting the ancient looking book. With gold lining on the edges of its pages and tattered red hard cover with the words Bestiary written on it, he carefully takes out the magically enchanted book with a huge grin on his face, feeling like he’s won the lottery.

Stiles settles down into a stray chair left at one of the tables, flipping through the old dusted pages he stops at lycanthropes, whiskey eyes running through the passage of it quickly. Eyes lingering onto the section describing how werewolves use people and objects as anchors to control their shifts during the full moon.

Stiles takes out the pendant from his pocket and runs his hands along the Triskele swirls. He has seen this symbol before, in herb shops and on various magical items that he didn’t dare touch for fear of the power behind them.

The Celtic symbols were powerful. He remembers Lydia explaining to him once about the multiple symbolisms behind each swirl like for example, Spirit, Mind and Body. Stiles runs a hand through his hair. So, maybe Derek uses the pendant as an anchor but why the Triskele of all things?

He sighs, flipping through the pages from the beginning as something else catches his attention. Nemeton. Stiles reads quickly through the passage and gasps.

“Shit.” Standing up quickly and holding up the pendant to the picture with the same symbol drawn on its page, eyes re-reading the tiny description written underneath the drawing in black print,

“Triskele, the crescent of the Nemeton and the Hale Guardians.”

“The Hale Guardians? Wait…” His heart drops, slamming the book closed and quickly putting the book back in place before putting his hood up and practically running out of there. Panting, Stiles heart was beating out of his chest, hands clammy as he held onto the Triskele pendant for dear life. Going to the only place he knew best to get rid of the damn thing before he was killed.

He was practically hyperventilating by the time he makes it down his old road, feeling nauseous as he passes the old abandoned houses in his neighborhood. Stopping in front of his dad’s house, Stiles hesitates stalling as he looked it over, boarded up and grass overgrown from years left unattended, he gulps.

Taking a deep breath of fresh air, he forces himself to walk up the front porch. He kicks open the door, and steps inside. Stiles gasps, looking around to the house he grew up in, exactly the same as when he had left. All the furniture was gone but the wallpaper and wall color were exactly the same.

His heart races, running up the stairs two at a time as he approaches his dad’s room, shaking hands gripping the old door knob. Stiles takes a deep breath, and swings opens the door.

Standing in the doorway as he looks at his dad’s empty room, he sighs deeply. There was nothing there. No remembrance of his dad at all.

He forces himself to breathe out, squeezing his eyes shut he focuses on his breathing, taking one step at a time to his dad's closet. Stiles walks over to the loose wooden floor board as he steps on the end and swiftly lifts the other end off, taking the pendant out of his pocket and putting it in the secret hiding place his Dad used to stash away his whiskey from Stiles’s prying eyes.

Stiles runs out of the room, breath shallowing with every step, he barely makes it to the door. Once outside, he gasps, hands on his knees, he tries to force himself to breathe, the early signs of an anxiety attack thankfully numbed away with every breath of fresh air. Panting, Stiles looks around, heart speeding up at the thought of being watched. He hurriedly puts the door up and walks out of his old neighborhood.

Stiles knew he was doing something extremely stupid but his curiosity always got the best of him. Walking up the stairs of his old high school, surprisingly still intact and well kept. Stiles walks the outside hallways, remembering exactly where his senior locker was, he makes it half way there, turning the corner before stopping dead in his tracks.

Scott scoffs, smirking as he looks at Stiles amusingly.

“Dude, you just couldn’t help yourself could you?” Scott says, grinning from ear to ear. He couldn’t let Scott know where he was so he plays along like he’d been meaning to go there from the beginning.

“Yeah, yeah. Haha McCall, you found me, happy?” Stiles says sarcastically, throwing his hands up in defeat.

“I know you better than anyone Stiles.” Scott says, Stiles glares at him, knowing how much Scotts getting off on finding him at their old senior lockers.

“Alright so you found me. What are you going to do? Frisk me? Interrogate me? You know you're not going to get a word out of me right?” He says, giving Scott a pointed look. Scott unable to stop smiling, shakes his head.

“No, of course not, that’s why I brought back up.” Scott puffs up his chest but before he’s able to howl, Stiles runs inhumanly fast to cover Scott's mouth with his hand.

“Scott no!” He whispers harshly, eyes widening in horror. Scott laughs, taking Stiles’s hand away, as he says,

“Then tell me where you put the pendant.”

He huffs out a frustrated sigh,“No Scott! I can't, please…” he pleads, Scott quirks his eyebrows up,

“Stiles, what would you want with an old pendant anyway? It couldn’t possibly benefit you in anyway, what’s so ever…” Scott laughs. Stiles forwards his brows in confusion.

“Uh, because it's shiny and sparkly Scott. Or maybe because, it’s my only chance of getting Derek back for blood bounding us for eternity!” Scott sighs deeply,

“Stiles, you know I’d never let anything happen to you. I made Derek swear. Taking Derek’s anchor is a bad idea. The full moon is in two days…” Scott says sincerely but he huffs out a frustrated sigh,

“Scott first of all, Derek’s word literally means shit to me. Second of all, he almost fucking killed me and Lydia and he would’ve if I didn’t…” He stops mid sentence as he blushes remembering how he deflected from the issue with shutting Derek off with his mouth.

Scott looks at him suspiciously, “If you didn’t what?” Stiles squints at Scott’s smirking face and rolls his eyes as he huffs out a laugh.

“Well, what can I say, the Stilinski charm is undeniable.” Scott laughs out loud, as Stiles continues, “And like I said before, he tricked Lydia and I! Our entire, immortal lives are at his disposal! So, until he comes up with a better plan to make an alliance with us, I will continue to make his life a living hell.” He says with finality. Scott sighs again,

“I get it. But, why the talisman? It’s useless to you right?” Scott asks looking at Stiles like a lost puppy.

He quirked his head, “You don’t know... Do you?” Scott forwards his brows, looking at Stiles like he’s crazy as he shakes his head slowly.

“Ha! Scotty he’s been playing you! The Hales are the guardians of the Nemeton.” Stiles emphasizes guardians with air quotation marks because well, Peter.

“What?” Scott asks, looking completely dumbfounded.

“Yeah, and guess what Scott? The Hales are probably the only ones who know where the Nemeton is and that pendant that Derek claims to be his anchor is actually the key to putting Beacon Hills borders back up! How do I know this? Because his blood has been messing with my fucking mind! Causing not so sexy vivid dreams where I’m running from house fires and getting electrocuted by that damn tree!”

“The Hale fire?” Scott asks looking even more confused.

He sighs deeply, “Yes Scott and more importantly Derek’s been lying to you this whole time! He doesn’t need us! He doesn’t need anyone! He’s been keeping this secret from everyone and manipulating us for his own benefit and I’ll be damned if I let him continue to run Beacon Hills into the ground!” Stiles practically yells, getting himself worked up. He clenches his hands trying to control his rage. Scott looks down at the floor deep in thought.

“Stiles, I can tell when someone’s lying. I’ve known Derek for centuries. I would’ve heard it in his heartbeat, maybe he doesn’t even know this himself?” Scott says. He scoffs,

“Yeah right Scott, like he would chase me miles into Beacon Hills preserve and back, trying to rip my damn head off just for his anchor? I’m sure he’s mastered the shift a long time ago Scott. That talisman is the only thing keeping me from restoring Beacon Hills to its former glory. It’s what my dad would’ve wanted. He spent his entire life trying to protect this town…” Scott studies his face and gulped, nodding he sighs,

“Yeah you're right, he would.” Scott smiles sadly to himself as he continues, “Why don’t you explain this to Derek? Stiles, there has to be a reason as to why he’s kept this hidden for so long. He’s one of the most sincere people I know. If he’s hiding something there has to be a legitimate reason….” Stiles grabs at his hair,

“What is it Scott? Because I’m running out of explanations and if I don’t start getting answers soon I’ll be forced to retaliate …” Scott looks at him with concern, grabbing his phone out of his pocket, he types something out and puts it back, looking at Stiles determinedly.

“I think I know someone who can help us.”

Walking up to the small Vet clinic, Stiles arches his brow up at Scott as he holds the door out for him with a smirk on his face.

“Scotty this isn’t exactly what I thought you had in mind…” He says, scratching at his nose as the smell of dog and god knows what else assaults his nose.

“Deaton!” Scott yells, running over and bear hugging the man before Stiles can get a good look at him. Wearing animal printed scrubs, white coat, and glasses, Stiles doesn’t recognize him at first until he takes off his glasses and smiles at Scott.

“Hey…I’ve seen you before.” Stiles says, walking over to Scott and the doctor.

Dr. Deaton turns giving him a knowing look,

“Well, we never were formally introduced at your housewarming party. Dr. Alan Deaton. Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Stilinski.” He quirks his eyebrow up at him suspiciously as they shake hands.

“You were talking to Derek that night…” Deaton smirks,

“Yes. I accompanied Derek that night along with his uncle Peter. Great guys, I’ve known the Hales for a long time.” Stiles squints at Deaton in suspicion,

“Yeah, exactly how long are we talking here?” Deaton’s smile widens,

“A while…” Deaton says, the hair on the back of Stiles’s neck stand on end, getting some major bad vibes from the doctor.

“Deaton is the packs Druid Emissary. We’ve known each other for about 15 years?” Scott says, excitedly glancing back at the doctor who nods. “We met each other in the field when I was still a practicing Veterinarian in South Africa.”

“Wait...my Scotty? The one who screams like a little girl when he sees a spider and baby talks to every animal like he was their long lost mother became a veterinarian in South Africa? Wow... That’s so amazing! I’m so proud of you Scott!” Stiles says, as a flash of the 19 year old, asthmatic, virgin Scott crosses his mind to the man he has become, stands in front of him.

Scott laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, it’s always been a passion of mine.”

Deaton smiles, “Old best friends I see. Come now, my office is more private. I can tell we have a lot to talk about.”

They follow Dr. Deaton back to his organized office. Sitting into the standard leather seats across from his desk, Stiles and Scott sit side by side.

“So what can I help you with?” Deaton says, with a devious smirk on his face.

“Scott…” Stiles says, turning to look at him.

“Right, so we were wondering if you could tell us anything about the Nemeton and the Triskele hale pendant?” Scott says in a rush, Scott’s nerves making Stiles anxious.

Deaton smirks, “Ah yes, the Triskele symbol is the Hales family crescent, it’s been in the Hale family for centuries and as for the Nemeton, the Hales were its sole protectors, until it was destroyed of course…”

“Wait what? The Nemeton was destroyed? I thought it was just cut down during the war?” Stiles says, interrupting.

“It was destroyed. The Nemeton after all was a beacon for supernatural creatures. During the war it caused major tensions in town with the different supernatural beings, so it was destroyed and no one has seen it since. It's only with the magic of druids that the tree can ever be restored.”

“The magic of druids? Well, then you can help us right?” He asks, looking between Deaton and Scott. Scott shrugs as Deaton clears his throat.

“I come from a long line of Druids but I’m afraid my magic alone is not enough to resurrect it. My family's powers were connected to the Nemeton and they weakened significantly when it was destroyed.” He sighs deeply.

“Derek’s never told me about this… Do you know why? “ Scott asks hesitantly with his hurt brown, puppy eyes.

“No, sorry Scott. I wish I could be of some help. I’m surprised you didn’t already know.” Deaton looks at Scott with concern.

“Well Doc, last night I had some weird vivid dream of running from the Hale fire and the Nemeton. Somehow, I found myself already placing the pendant into its trunk and then all of a sudden I’m feeling this electrical charge run throughout my body. When I woke up, Derek was already busting down the doors, trying to get his hands on the damn thing. So I ran and here we are! I hope that's where your werewolf expertise comes in with some sort of explanation…” Stiles says, narrowing his eyes, annoyed and still suspicious that the doctor knows more than he’s letting on.

“Really? Do you have it with you?” Deaton asks, eyes widening in interest.

He smirks, leaning back in his seat, drumming his fingers against the chair's armrest, “It's in my little secret hiding place.…”

Dr. Deaton nods, leaning forward and folding his hands in front of him as he asks, “If you don’t mind me asking,” studying Stiles which makes him squirm uncomfortably in his seat.

“Are you bonded to Derek?” He blushes, sitting up straighter and clearing his throat. Scott looks at him expectedly.

“Uh, Yeah. Eternally blood bonded until death due us part. Not by choice by the way. Actually, I would really love to know more about that…” He says in a rush. Deaton huffs out a laugh, which has Stiles feeling even more uncomfortable.

“His mother's going to kill him, don’t you worry about that.” He smirks as the doctor continues. “Scott, can you please tell Derek that he needs to meet with me right away?”

Scott nods quickly as Stiles braces himself for Deaton’s words as the doctor sighs deeply,

“That might also be an explanation to the shared dreams between you. A Werewolf and Vampire blood bond is very risky and well….personal. One can't live without the other. It’s a sacred bond of sacrifice and in your case...it'll last for eternity, unless one of you die of course...”

He huffs out a laugh, “Unbelievable…” Scott, glances at him, his jaw tightening painfully before Scott's quickly getting up and saying,

“Thank you so much Deaton for meeting us on such a short notice, you have been more than helpful.” Deaton laughs, shaking his head, and reminding Scott to tell Derek about their meeting as he stands to shake Scott's and Stiles hands goodbye. Stiles storms out of the vet office, infuriated, mind already racing with a million ways to kill Derek.

Scott runs after him, walking in stride with him as he heads towards town.

“Stiles wait! Come on! He didn’t mean it literally!” Scott says after him, as he feels his fangs elongate.

“No Scott! I told you, he’s been planning this shit from the beginning! I knew I should’ve killed him when I had the chance! That fucking bastard!” Stiles yells, walking aimlessly down the sidewalk.

“Stiles don’t you trust me?” Scott says from behind him, he stops in his tracks as he shouts.

“Trust is earned Scott! I can’t just magically hand it over!”  The flash of hurt that crosses Scott's face turns stone cold in an instant, eyes going hard as he says,

“Stiles, I did not isolate myself for 90 years, and survive another 410 years to have you die on me. I did it because I knew you were still alive somewhere out there and I refused to let the universe fuck up my life more than it already has. You’re my best friend Stiles. My brother. I’d never let anything happen to you.” Scott says with his most sincere and sad puppy-eyed eyes, Stiles has ever witnessed to date.

He huffs out a frustrated sigh, grabbing at his hair. He should know better, his anger was directed at Derek not Scott, this wasn't his fault. It was a lost cause fighting over the what ifs, especially since there were bigger matters at hand so he swallows and nods, his eyes downcast apologetically as he says,  

“Yeah. Your right. Sorry. I love you too Scotty.” Scott grins widely, bear hugging him, he picks him off the ground, spinning him around. Stiles laughs until Scott's pushing him away, both of them grinning at each other like a couple of dorks. Scott sighs happily, leading Stiles to his BMW R nine-T.

“Nice Bro!” Stiles says, running his hands against the metal handle bars.

Scott laughs, “Thanks dude, just wait until you see my collection back at home!”

He raises both brows in surprise, internally freaking out about how much Scott's life is still an enigma to him. Taking out his spare helmet, Scott hands it over to him. They both buckle up in their helmets and ride down the rest of the way to town. Scott takes them to a supposedly famous café place.

“Boyd and Erica are in there. Just follow my lead ok?” Scott says, pulling his helmet off as they get ready to go inside.

“Do you think they will believe us?” Stiles asks, nerves setting in when he looks at the overly modern, clean designed café shop.

“Yeah, lets cross our fingers and hope that Boyd can talk Erica down. She’s one of Derek’s most faithful watchdogs right after his sisters, of course. She’s going to need some convincing.” Stiles nods. Taking his phone out, he notices his phones blown up with texts and calls, sending a quick text of his own of his location to the clans group messenger, he puts it back in his pocket and braces himself.

Walking over to the couple sitting at one of the back mini tables and stools, Stiles feels Erica’s eyes glaring daggers at him from across the table as he squirms awkwardly in his seat from under her intense gaze. Scott clears his throat.

“We can explain…” Scott says before Erica immediately interrupts,

“Tell me why Stilinski here, is still breathing?” Erica says, flashing her golden, werewolf eyes at Stiles. He squints his eyes right back at her.

“Boyd?” Scott says helplessly. Boyd just smirked, arching his eyebrow up at Scott’s helpless plea, he shakes his head. Scott sighs deeply,

“Ok great, so basically, the pendant we thought Stiles stole is actually…”

“Shhh,” Erica says interrupting Scott again as he tightens his jaw clearly annoyed but is instantly perking up in his seat like a dog that just heard his owner’s car door close from the driveway. Stiles eyes him with confusion, looking back at Erica who’s smiling slyly at him but it's only then that his eyes widen with realization.

“Derek.” Erica says in greeting. Stiles stands suddenly from his seat, heart dropping as Derek briskly walks coolly to the café entrance.

He gasps, Scott looks back at him with wide eyes as he backs up from the table, hipster teens giving him the side eye as they move out of his way.

Of course as soon as people see Derek walk in, some stare longingly but the smart ones look immediately away at seeing Derek’s furious face.

He struts in wearing his signature worn, Italian biker leather jacket and combat boots, white v-neck shirt and tight black jeans. Oh no. Stiles closes his gaping mouth to scoff, scratching the back of his head roughly, looking away for relief, his eyes burning from Derek’s beautiful everything already. 

“Derek…” Scott says standing up but Derek ignores him, walking straight towards Stiles direction. Stiles can’t help but bite his lip, trying to suppress his fanged smirk as Derek’s green fiery eyes stare him down. When Derek reaches him, he grabs Stiles’s hand, which he reflectively snatches out of his grip.

“Stiles…” Derek warns under his breath, obviously not wanting to make a scene. Well it was too late for that Stiles thinks, looking around at the café, the entire shop had gone silent and tensed as they both continue to glare at each other. After a beat, he sighs deeply, deciding the best option was to walk away, not wanting the rumor mill to start and give his clan a bad reputation so early in their reign over Beacon Hills.

He turns, walking casually with his hands in his red hoodie pockets, towards the back of the shop. Entering the hall, he walks past the busy swinging doors of the kitchen and to the end of the hall where the bathrooms are for some privacy. But right before he's able to reach up and push open the doors to the men's bathroom, his arm gets tugged back forcefully, forcing him to turn around.

Face to face with Derek now, Derek’s red eyes glow in the dim lights of the hall, tugging him closer, their mouths now inches away as Derek leans in, intoxicating Stiles with his hypnotic scent. He pushes against Derek's chest, knowing all too well where this will lead if he lets Derek get his way but Derek's persistent, not budging in the slightest.

"Let me go!" His hand comes up to slap him before Derek’s catching it in mid air in a steel tight grip.

"No." Derek growls back, leaning in again to capture Stiles lips. Stiles is barely able to escape the lip brushing distance as he pushes again at Derek's chest, hissing with his fangs bared.

Derek growls back, grabbing the front of his maroon hoody and purposely pushing him back into the guy’s bathroom. Stiles stumbles back as gracefully as a fawn learning to walk for the first time. He hisses, crouching down ready to attack, as Derek closes the swinging bathroom door from behind him.

Grabbing Derek he spins them around, slamming him back into the wall. The tiles crack and fall from the force of it but Derek just huffs out a laugh, like he was legitimately enjoying this. He's grabbing at Stiles again, but before he can bring their lips together, Stiles wraps his hand around Derek’s throat, pulling Derek’s white t-shirt to the side and sinking his fangs into the meat of his neck.

“Fuck!” Derek says breathlessly. Expecting a fight, he bites down harder, hand tightening around his throat incase he tried to escape but he feels Derek relax instead. Frustrated and a little disappointed Stiles makes sure to tease him, sucking extra slowly and moaning loudly while each gulp of Derek's blood runs down his throat.

Derek grabs onto his hips to thrust into him but Stiles uses his other hand he has around Derek’s neck to pin him against the wall, enabling him from moving closer. Derek growls lowly in his ears.

He rolls his eyes, purposely making some blood drip from his mouth and down sloppily over Derek’s white T-shirt. Making even filthier wet suctioning sounds with his mouth. Derek's hands reach down into his pants, squeezing painfully hard at his ass in retaliation. He moans loudly, as Derek’s warm hands squeeze and continue kneading his ass.

The heat that’s radiating off of Derek is insane, almost tempting enough to lean into but he resists.

He drinks his fill and when he’s done, he makes sure to lick at the punctured, bloody marks on Derek’s neck until they're completely gone and healed. Vanishing in seconds from Derek's amazing werewolf healing abilities.

When Stiles leans back to wipe at his mouth, Derek’s eyes are glazed over and looking like something straight out of a Vampire's wet-dream. He stares back at him through half lidded, red eyes and white bloody stained shirt in a daze, probably from the loss of blood to his brain.

Stiles laughs, licking and savoring the last remnants of Derek's flesh on his fangs contently to himself with a job well done.

Walking back into the other wall, he watches Derek pant, reaching down into his black jeans to adjust the mouthwatering impressive sized boner in his pants. Stiles takes his time appreciating it's size for a moment, glad his fantasies of huge werewolf dick were right. God, if the werewolf fetish blogs he's read so far were right about knotting as well...

“You’re going to pay for that.” Derek says gruffly as he zips up his leather jacket over his blood soaked shirt. Stiles smile widens, tearing his eyes away from the very distracting ligament to look determinedly back into Derek's kaleidoscopic eyes.   

“Bring it on, big boy. Show me what you got.” Derek smirks, surprisingly still able to walk despite the liters of blood missing from his body, he saunters slowly over. Eyes dark and predatory, he grabs for Stiles’s face, kissing him deeply, tongue forcefully pushing through Stiles’s lips and licking into his mouth.

He groans, finally letting their bodies press together as Derek’s warm hands squeezes the junction of his hips and thighs painfully hard. The sudden heat that rushes to his face at first seems like a normal bodily function before he realizes his entire body flushing with sensitivity as well, the need to cum unbearable.

Stiles pulls at Derek’s hair, as Derek moves away with a slick pop, mouths leaving a trail of saliva behind. Panting he fists Derek’s leather jacket,

“You little shit!” Stiles yells, he pushes Derek away and runs out of the bathroom but halfway through the hallway, his vision swirls. He tries to walk, panting and shaking, skin already dripping with sweat. Derek grabs the back of his hoodie to hold him upright, he leans in to whisper into his ear,

“You're not allowed to leave my side Stiles. You hear me? If you touch yourself, I’ll break your hand. If you run, you better run for your life because when I get my hands on you…” Derek huffs out a laugh that blows against his neck, making him shiver. “I’ll fucking tear you apart.”

He swallows hard and tenses as Derek runs his nose along the ridge of his neck, his eyes rolling back on their own accord from the contact. His intensified heightened senses and Derek were a deadly combination, leaving him ready to combust in his pants at any moment, his only salvation coming from the pain of biting his lip until he drew blood.

“Mm yeah Derek, mark your territory.” He whimpers, the words seemingly slipping out of his mouth as if his body's defenses were trying to salvage the last pieces of his sanity

“Shut up.” Derek says, sighing deeply but Stiles knows the words, "you brought this onto yourself" were what he really wanted to say and for once Stiles couldn't agree more. He knew this from the moment Derek stepped through those doors that this would be the end result but the ease in which he lets himself be grabbed and lead through the crowded café was really what was more concerning.

Stiles squints his eyes, sunlight blinding, as Derek pulls him along and sits him down next to Erica’s side at the table. Scott gives him a concerned look, opening his mouth to say something but Derek holds up his hand to wait. The waiter comes over and asks Derek if he would like to order anything.

Stiles opens his mouth to make a sarcastic remark, probably along the lines of 'yeah like a new shirt', but shuts up instantly when Derek’s clawed nails dig into his thigh. He gasps, wincing, he bites his already swollen lip hard to keep from yelling out in pain. The waiter eyes him with a judgmental glance. Derek clears his throat,

“Black for me and a glass of water. Thank you.” Derek says, bluntly. The table watches the waiter leave before the entire table abruptly starts talking all at once.

Stiles’s, “I think I’m going to faint…” Gets lost in the sea of voices or so he thinks before the pain is gone instantly, Derek’s claws re-tracking but still possessively holding onto his thigh. Derek sighs deeply,

“You guys have exactly 5 minutes to explain to me what’s going on. Scott,” Derek says.

“Dude, not cool. Look at him! He’s about to pass out!” Scott says, in a rush, looking at Stiles with concern but Derek rolls his eyes.

“Ok, now you have three minutes. Now what’s. Going. On.” Derek says angrily, hand clutching down on Stiles’s already healed thigh. Stiles groans at the warmth from Derek's hands seeping into his hunters pants, face blushing even more, he shifts in place, erection straining painfully hard in his briefs.

Scott huffs out a frustrated sigh, “We found out what that pendant really does Derek and that you’ve been keeping it a secret from us.”

Derek sighs out a frustrated breath, “Is that all?”

“I’ll need to talk to you, later in private.” Scott says, eyes cold, looking at Derek with betrayal.

“Understood. I’ll need some time with him though. Maybe Friday night…" Derek says, Scott rolls his eyes. Stiles forwards his brows in confusion. Friday night was two days away, he gulps hard before croaking out,

“Friday night?” He shivers again, trying to control his body from shaking like a leaf, heart pounding in his chest at Derek’s implication.

Trying desperately not to straddle Derek right there in the middle of the café. The thoughts alone make him spill an embarrassingly huge amount of pre-cum all over his boxers, which has Derek stiffening and glancing down at the undoubtedly huge erection in Stiles’s pants.

He shifts again, unable to keep still. Feeling eyes on him, he looks up at Erica whose sly smile widens. The waiter comes to give Derek his drinks. He puts the glass of water in front of Stiles, studying his face, which he's sure is flushed deep red.

He knew Derek was just waiting for him to brake and reach for that glass to cool himself off so he fists his hands, not giving into the temptation. Erica laughs out loud,

“Damn, didn’t think Stilinski had it in him.” She leans in closer to whisper into his ear, “I bet you're just dying to cream your pants, isn’t that right Stiles…”

In a flash, she’s twisting painfully hard at his nipple through his hoody. He gasps, pushing her hand away, he huffs out breaths, his dick twitching uncontrollably, but he resists, groaning loudly he helplessly leans into Derek’s shoulder. Derek practically lunges at Erica. She yelps, laughing out loud, she leans away from his reach, hiding behind Boyd's arms.

“Hands off...” Derek practically snarls in a harsh whisper not wanting to draw attention before huffing out a frustrated breath. “The heat rooms are forbidden for the next 48 hours. Don’t call or text me. I’m putting Boyd in charge. You need anything? Go to him.”

With that Derek stands, hands clutching Stiles's maroon hoody from the back and pushing him through the crowd.

“Wait…Derek! Asshole!” Stiles yells, glancing back at Scott’s concerned face for one last time before Derek’s pushing him through the doors. The air outside allowing him to cool down a bit as he says,

“Push me again and I swear I’ll drag your little werewolf ass…” Stiles says but Derek’s hand is coming up to cover his mouth in an instant.

“Shut. Up. Stiles.” Derek says through gritted teeth. Stiles smirks, ripping his hand off from over his mouth, he leans in and whispers into Derek’s ear.

“Wouldn’t want your little werewolf secret getting out now would we? I can have your secret exposed in a matter of seconds across the entire supernatural realm. Do not push me.” Stiles spits. He grinds into Derek’s thighs for an extra fuck you gesture but it goes unnoticed as Derek grabs him by the collar of his hoody.

“You need me in order to survive Stiles, which is why if I go down, you go down too. ” Derek says, flashing his alpha red eyes at him in anger. He shrugs.

“I’ve died countless times, what’s one more time to me huh? Why don’t we just speed up this whole sacrifice bond thing and end it, right here, right now?” Stiles gulps, bracing himself as he waits for the answer to the questions he's been meaning to ask since the emissary visit with Dr. Deaton but of course with Stiles luck, a clear cut explanation would be far too merciful.

Derek rolls his eyes, “It’s that easy for you, isn’t it? To throw everything away without a care in the world. Well, I refuse to make it easier for you Stiles…” Brushing their lips together, Stiles breathlessly inhales, lashes fluttering closed momentarily to breathe in Derek’s scent before coming back to his senses and moving back slightly in the tight space between them. Naturally as soon as he tries to move away, Derek's possessively bringing him in by the waist, aligning their bodies sinfully.

“You're all mine now...Do you understand? Mine. You’re coming with me and I will show you just what there is to live for…” Derek says lowly, pupils blown eyes, staring back into his black soul. He smirks slyly, rolling his eyes at the werewolfs smoldering gaze.

Stiles knows he should say no, he really, _really_ , should say no but gosh... how could someone resist that face?

Stiles internally curses at his weak impulse control, just one of the many Stilinski traits he's inherited from his father. John's love for high cholesterol, heart attack waiting to happen fast food addiction has past down to his son, morphing into a deadly compulsive need for tall, dark and handsome werewolf meat and right now Derek is looking like the most juicy, straight off the grill, oozing with cheese with curly fries, mouth watering burger, open for the taking and Stiles is just a man ok!

Plus he'll be the first to admit that he's a greedy little shit who will willingly throw himself into less than favorable situations in the off chance that Stiles junior in his pants will be rewarded.

So what he says in the following seconds were spoken from the needs of his nether regions and nothing else. Also anyone who's ever denied that guys don't think with their dicks were so wrong, so, so very wrong.

“That's highly unlikely but I can't say I'm opposed to the idea of you trying to convince me....” He says a little delirious from the loss of blood to his brain. Derek huffs out a frustrated sigh, grabbing his hand and walking them over to his black Chevrolet Camaro zl1.

“Fuck me…” Stiles says, breathlessly at the car before Derek's shoving him into the passenger side and getting into the driver's seat. Derek pulls out of the parking lot without even looking back, putting the car into drive they speed down the road leading into the preserve.

The whole car ride thick with sexual tension as Stiles adjusts himself about a million times due to his thoughts being consumed with what Derek was about to do to him. The overwhelming smell of Derek inside his car, driving his dirty thoughts wild.

Staring at Derek as he switched the shift to different gears did nothing to help, licking his lips, he imagines Derek’s hand around his dick, calloused hands, rough against his skin, pumping him so tightly and just right over his tip...

Swallowing hard, he glances down at his erection, painfully hard and obvious in his pants. Stiles glances back at Derek making sure his eyes were on the road before slowly reaching over to tug at it but in an instant his hand gets slapped away.

“Don’t.” Derek demands, glancing at him quickly with a death glare and then returning his gaze back towards the road.

“Watch me.” Stiles retorts, pumping at his dick through his pants as he falls back against his seat, closing his eyes, he moans loudly, his mouth hanging open in ecstasy.

Derek growls, reaching over and grabbing at his hand, practically swerving off the road.

“Ow! Stop, Stop! That’s my dick!” He practically yells as Derek sighs and lets go.

“Oh my god! You're insane!” He winces, curling up into a fetal position in his seat.

“You asked for it.” Derek growls, his hands tightening around the steering wheel.

Stiles gasps in outrage before listing off a million reasons why Derek’s insane as Derek continues driving but Derek's mouth eventually starts quirking up into a smirk so Stiles huffs out a laugh in disbelief.

“You know what? Screw you! Why don’t you just call that little one night stand you had the other night because you’re not getting any of this!” He says, huffing in frustration and crossing his arms over his chest as they pull into Derek’s driveway.

Parking, Derek walks out silently, ripping open the passenger door, he throws a protesting Stiles over his shoulder, walking them inside and down to the basement in extraordinary timing. Stiles only gets glimpses of metal doors passing them by before Derek’s opening the one at the end of the hallway and throwing him again onto the bed from across the room.

Locking the door behind him, Derek types in a complicated security code into the keypad on the steel door before turning around and stalking towards him over on the bed.

He sits up quickly, trying to suppress his arousal from being manhandled. No one's ever been able to pick him up so easily. It would be so fucking hot if it weren't so humiliating. Gulping hard, he glares at Derek, trying to recover some of his dignity.

“Did you think I forgot about her? Huh? And fuck, stop looking at me like that! I know you're trying to distract me from telling me the truth about the pendant!” Derek smirks, narrowing his searing gaze at him.

“That one night stand you keep mentioning is one of my best friends, Branden. Who happened to be there at Nyx, that night under my orders to keep an eye on you incase you did anything stupid. Making out with another guy aside. Stealing that pendant was on another level of stupid I didn't know existed.” Stiles blushes deeply. Damn it. Jealous Derek was even hotter than he could've imagined and no one should look that hot angry! What did Stiles do to deserve this torture!

He dramatically flails his arms towards Derek’s general direction as he says,

“You’re lecturing me? First, you blood bound us for eternity, then you send someone to spy on me? Should I be concerned about your level of obsession because this is seriously starting to get out of hand!” Derek smiles, a real broad smile that has Stiles heart flipping while simultaneously questioning his sanity for always picking the insanely gorgeous, torturing, slightly psychotic ones.

Shaking his head from what Stiles assumes is the private conversation Derek's having with himself, probably about how much joy he's getting from seeing Stiles suffer from refusing to include him. Derek slides his leather jacket from his broad shoulders and flings it forcefully onto the comfy looking couch.

“Don’t you get it? This alliance was made to ensure we both stuck to our sides of the deal! You keep our species secret and we can protect you from the town’s council who would've had your Vampire clan killed if it wasn’t for us!”

“Whoa! Whoa. Slow down werewolf. What council? And look my clan never wanted or needed your protection! We can take care of ourselves!” Derek snorts, actually snorts at the thought and frankly Stiles is offended.

“You have no idea what the town's council is capable of. What hides in the shadows of this town are beyond your greatest nightmares. Trust me, I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

Stiles flails with his whole body, trying to emphasis his outrage as best he can when he says,

“Then why hide the pendant! Why not use it to restore Beacon Hills borders? You're the Hale Guardians!” Derek sighs deeply, running his hand through his ink black hair roughly, he takes off his shirt in one swift motion, leaving Stiles gaping as his eyes drink up their fill of Derek’s amazing muscled torso.

“Don’t you think I would, if I knew how? That pendant is the only object left with the Nemetons power still inside. That dream you had last night has been the same recurring dream I’ve had for the last decade and each night I try to deceiver what it means and come up empty handed every time.” Derek looks down in concentration as he continues,

“Which is why, I can’t let you go. Until you tell me where it is.” Derek says, looking up at Stiles with alpha red eyes. He reaches into his black jean pockets to retrieve leather, finger-less gloves. Slipping them on, he smirks, looking back at Stiles from under his lashes and adds with an innocent tone to his voice, “Now which one do you prefer, the whip or the paddle?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scott's BMW Nine-T: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/523191681685330155/
> 
> Derek's Chevrolet Camaro zL1: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/26036504067839239/


	6. Crimson Poison

Stiles runs to the corner of the room, heart pounding in his chest as the sweat runs down his forehead in his last chosen destination to lure in his prize, sharp fangs aching to taste the flesh of tan skin on the werewolf who's unknowingly in a reversed role play game of stalker and prey.

The alpha's eyes are simply glowing with complacent victory as Stiles gulps loudly, playing the victim card in an oscur winning proformance when he's successfully backed into a corner with no possible escape. Derek even takes a moment to appreciate his position, tracking his nervous fidgeting movements closely before licking his lips to say,

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way Stiles.”

The smile that threatens to break across his face is covered by a facade of warning hisses, baring his fangs, Stiles crouches down at the ready, all his senses on high alert, sizing up his meals appetizing lean, muscle mass as he saunters closer, muscles rippling as he approaches in a seductive and confident stride that makes Stiles want to pounce, but he resists, waiting for his prey to come to him.  

Derek comes closer and closer now standing just an arm's length away, the heat radiating off his body in waves and revealing itself through the sheen layer of sweat covering his broad chest. His scent now caramelized to a burnt sugar aroma of lust stronger than he has ever had the honor of smelling, overwhelming his hyper vigilant senses. He stands straighter, holding on to his last few minutes of control.

Feeling Derek’s eyes racking up and down his body, he breathlessly inhales, so turned on, his cock jerks and on its own volition spilling precome thats been backed up and straining to leak out since the cafe incident. Stiles swears if he'd so much as flexed his abdomen he'd cum untouched. Luckily for him that's when Derek decides to break, nose flaring and snarling loudly, he forcefully pushes Stiles up against the wall, arms and legs caging him in, he grabs at Stiles face, moving in to whisper in his ear.

“I don’t want to hurt you…”

Derek leans their foreheads together, running his thumb across Stiles’s bottom lip which Stiles trails after with his tongue unable to resist from tasting the delicious flesh this close up. He gasps as their lips brush, eyelashes fluttering close at the contact but before he can lean in, Derek’s picking him up and throwing him back onto the bed.

"Fuck..." Stiles huffs out as Derek straddles him, forcing his hands above his head in a steel tight grip. He doesn't even flinch as Derek’s reaching over him with one hand to snap closed metal wrist cuffs, which he tries to break instantly from curiosity but is pleasantly surprised when the restraints automatically lock back, enabling him from moving his hands away.

He whimpers a little delirious from the loss of blood to his head as he thrusts up into Derek’s weight, moaning loudly as his dick finally, _finally_ brushes up against Derek’s ass and it's absolutely glorious! Derek growls in retaliation, leaning back to grind his jean covered ass down _hard_ on Stiles’s dick. The high whine that comes out of his throat is completely involuntary, throwing his head back in ecstasy, he's practically busting it right there, melting into the silk sheets.

“ _Pleaseee!_ Derek oh my god...” He begs at Derek’s wolfish grin. But then Derek's swinging off him in one fluent motion, making Stiles cry out from the loss of contact.

When Derek’s muscled Triskelion tattoo back comes into focus, he's opening the doors of some metal supply closet off to the side. The things practically overflowing with all sorts of torture and bondage looking devices that have Stiles instantly testing the restraints automatic lock feature, trying with all his might to rip them off.

Flailing his arms and legs he decides to flip over onto his front side, facing the restraints, he kneels and sits up on his knees trying to use his legs and arms to rip the restraints off the wall. The crack of the whip against his ass has Stiles shrieking loudly, jumping and flailing in surprise, he falls to his side unable to move his hands.

“See. That hurt a little, didn’t it?” Derek says with an evil smirk. He saunters over to his side.  Stiles whimpers, heartbeat pounding loudly in his chest. He blushes, embarrassed from the feeling of the whip slashing through his pants and already healed bared ass.

He doesn’t trust his voice to speak, still in shock from the experience as Derek huffs out a laugh, his breath ghosting lightly over Stiles face. His leather gloved hand, runs over his exposed ass, massaging it before squeezing it tightly and slapping it hard, causing Stiles to moan loudly, thrusting desperately into the bed.

“You like that?” Derek whispers into his ear, he shivers, tingles spreading across his head and back, while trembling and buzzing with excitement. “I can’t hear you…” Derek says, running his fingers along the inside of his ass, fingers rubbing at his exposed hole.

“Fuck yeah Derek please...” He says breathlessly, pushing up into Derek’s fingers for more and arching his back for better access.

“Good. Because I’m not done with you yet…” Derek says, in a half snarl, voice barely human. Stiles nods frantically, rolling over to his front again, he sticks his ass up in submission, bracing himself for another hit.

Derek snarls then, slapping his ass hard with a loud slap. He cries out, falling back on the bed from the pleasurable stinging, numbness sensation. Spanking was definitely a new kink he planned on exploiting in the future, which he thinks shouldn't be too hard since getting under Derek's skin seemed to be an awesome talent of his. He grinds into the mattress, trying to give his dick some relief, the friction sending body spasms of pleasure through him as he groans loudly into the pillow.

Derek whips him across the ass again making him cry out, eyes squeezing shut, he arches his back forward out of reflex, Derek using that opportunity to flip Stiles over onto his back. He gasps,

“Shit! Derek Ugh!…” Stiles yells out. Derek ignores him, continueing to whip him over his exposed chest, over his sensitive nipples, and under the side of his arms. He cries out, as the whip slashes through the material of his red hoodie, and hunting gear. He shutters at the stinging burns through his skin and over his nipples.

He's practically cumming right there, completely submerged in subspace, he arches off the bed for more but Derek’s on top of him again, straddling and forcing him to lay back down on the bed. He leans down to lick at the exposed slashes of skin, warm tongue licking and lapping at his sensitive underarms first before his lips ghost over Stiles’s nipples.

“Oh fuck...” Stiles smirks as Derek blows against each one. He squirms, the dull ache only intensifying with every blow. He tauntingly tries to push away from Derek’s mouth, knowing that Derek would be a good dom and relieve him.

Derek leans down slowly, Stiles watching in a trance as his hot tongue licks all so good at the angry red erect nipples softly, covering each one with saliva. He whines squirming under Derek’s weight and kicking his legs out in frustration as Derek teases him with a wicked smirk on his face.

“Derek, oh my god!” Derek huffs out a laugh before he bites down on his right nipple with his teeth making Stiles cry out loud, eyes blurring with tears while arching off the bed, but Derek’s warm mouth covers it in an instant, sucking wetly and relieving him once again.

He moans thrusting up but getting no relief since Derek’s thighs are settled around his stomach and not around his waist. Derek does the same with the left nipple, which has him transforming, biting down on his bottom lip with his fangs.

Nearly half deranged now, Derek lets go of his other nipple with a slick pop and leans over him, arms resting on either side of his head. Derek’s red eyes are half lidded, watching him, brushing their lips together, he catches them angrily, kissing him deeply and biting at his lips in desperation.

Their tongues sliding together oh so perfectly good until Derek’s leaning away, mouthing at the under side of Stiles jaw and rubbing his scruff against the sensitive skin of his neck.

“Fuck me Derek. _Pleasseee_ ” He cries out in protest, reeling in the feeling of Derek’s mouth and warm, heavy body over him. Derek finishes sucking a hickey into the skin around his shoulders as he sits up. Gloved hand caressing the side of his face, Derek runs his thumb across Stiles’s red swollen, bottom lip that he catches easily and sucks on, moaning as his cheeks hollow around it.

Derek watches with half lidded eyes and mouth slightly open, his other hand coming down to unzip his black jeans. With Derek’s thumb still in his mouth Stiles groans, thrusting his hips up as he watches Derek take out his cock.

Thick, uncircumcised and perfectly hung, Stiles mouth drools over its beauty. The precum was spilling from its deep red head and slick with it, begging for Stiles to suck on. Derek takes his thumb out of his mouth and uses both hands to slip his black jeans slightly lower on his hips, showcasing his amazing muscled V-line.

“Mm yeah, Derek give me that beautiful cock.” He says greedily, licking his lips, he watches Derek’s hand tightly squeeze the head, spilling even more precum over its tip. Derek huffs out a breathless laugh,

“You want this? You want my cock down your throat?” He frantically nods, sitting up a bit and shamelessly sticking out his tongue. Derek rolls his eyes, pushing up his pants, leaving just the head peaking out when he moves off Stiles again.

“What? No! No! No! Derek!” Stiles whimpers, watching Derek grab onto the whip and running it through his leather gloved hands.

“Tell me where you put the pendent.” Derek says with an arched brow. Stiles groans, his blue balls, throbbing painfully in his pants. 

“Oh c'mon! Please Derek, I’ll show you where I put it if you untie me. I promise!” He says, squirming in his restraints. Derek huffs out a frustrated sigh,

“Tell me where it is or I’ll keep you here until the next full moon! Tell me where it is!” Derek growls, whipping Stiles nearly inches away from his dick and twice on either leg.

“Ow, Fuck! Oh god, ok! Ok!” He cries out flailing on the bed, quivering from the pleasure pains of his body stitching itself back up. Once able to fully speak words again, he croaks out,

“It’s at my dad's house. I swear! I promise you, it’s at my dad's house.” He says panting, throwing his head back in defeat knowing there was no way out of this. Derek was a walking lie detector, like all supernatural beings were and he'd spot the skip in his heart beat the moment the lie left his lips. Derek sighs deeply crossing his arms, displaying his amazing biceps.

“Ok. I’ll believe you right after this…” The room swirls as Derek manhandles him, flipping him back over to his front. Stiles sees Derek’s arm lift and braces himself. The whip hits him over his legs and ass a few more times before Stiles’s hunters pants are completely shredded to pieces but he couldn't care less because Dereks coming back then.

Straddling his thighs, Derek takes his sweet time providing aftercare to him, massaging, licking and sucking hickies into the back of his thighs lovingly. He trembles in delight the whole way through, unable to even lift off the bed from such a relaxed state.

When Derek finally reaches his ass, he sits up and walks over to the end of the bed and stands between his legs, right out of Stiles line up sight. Leaning down over half of the bed, he hooks his forearms around Stiles thighs to drag him closer and hold him in place, whilst grabbing two big handfuls of his asscheeks and burying his face in between them.

Making sure that Stiles's hole is nicely wet and lubricated, sucking on it until it's red with sensitivity, moving his tongue hungrly inside. Too horny for words, he cries out in bliss. Derek’s slick tongue moves skillfully and relentlessly inside of him, leaving Stiles helplessly thrusting into the bed as Derek devours him.

All he's able to do is let out weak whimpers and sobs into the pillow, unable to hold on any longer. But the next thing he knew Derek’s slick tongue massaging his hole slips out, he whines before Derek’s flipping him over onto his back, ripping off the last remaining fabric of his hunters pants, and swallowing down his cock to its base.

He blacks out as he cums, spilling all his seed inside Derek’s hot mouth. He's gulping him down with ease, Derek’s alpha red eyes watching him from under his lashes. He thrusts up in short jerks, over and over again, Derek's throat and lips continuing to milk out the cum from his mind blowing orgasm. Stiles could feel the tears spill out from over his eyes the entire time and when he finally finishes, his dick pulses with after shock.

Derek’s blurry form lifts off him and kneels, wiping the rest of Stiles' cum into his mouth, the obscene noise of him laping Stiles cum off his fingers and deep rumbles of pleasure are enough for Stiles spent dick to twitch in intrest once again. 

"Holy shit.." Is the only thing he can muster, gazing up at the sex god that is Derek Hale in his half naked glory.

"We're doing that again." Derek states matter of factly, not even giving him the option to recover.

Stiles just stares in awe, still in a daze from one of his best, if not THE best, orgasms he has ever had in his whole life. Goddamn this was one for the history books and he finds himself unable to regret any of his life's decisions up until this point, barely registering the loud bang on the door until Derek's crimson eyes leave his to look over at the back of the room.

The sound of the door unlocking has Derek standing up quickly and running over to the sealed door. When the door bursts open, all Stiles sees is purple smoke and Derek go down, fainting and standing in his place is none other than Lydia Martin's sly smiling face.

“Ly…Lydia?” He croaks out, still out of it as she comes over to his side and looks over the restraints, finding something off to the side that has him unlocked in an instant.

He instantly sits up, looking over at Derek unconscious on the floor.

“Is…Is he dead?” Stiles says, heart dropping as he looks at Lydia’s unimpressed face.

“No Stiles. Your lover boy is not dead. I just used a bit of wolfsbane. He’ll be conscious in a few hours. Here.” Lydia hands him a new pair of clothes, black shirt, red plaid long-sleeve shirt and black jeans. Slipping one of the many runes designed rings off her finger, Lydia slips the sun-protector ring over his ring finger.

“Thank you. Are these Scotts?” Stiles asks, sniffing them.

“Yeah, he’s waiting outside for us. We have to go. I don’t know how long Peters going to take before he notices I left him at the mall.”

Stiles shakes his head, smiling at himself at Lydia’s antics as he dresses, following her out he winces to himself at how bad he must smell. Ugh, Scotts going to have a field day. As soon as they get into Scott's yellow Ferrari in the garage, Scott says, “Duuude Congratulations!” with a playful grin.

“Scott shut up and drive!” He says, blushing furiously in his passenger seat.

Scott pulls out and almost makes a clean get away until they’re driving down the road and passing Peters silver Lamborghini Minotauro.

“Fuck!” Scott yells, as Stiles looks back over his shoulder, watching Peter swerve around and drives towards their direction.

“Hold on!” Scott yells, he gets locked into place by the automatic harness like seatbelt. Scott lets go of the steering wheel and presses autopilot on one of the many buttons on his dashboard. In an instant, the cars lifting off the ground, he gasps, looking in the rearview mirror as the tires disappear and the car is levitating 10 feet, already off the ground.

“Dude! This is sick!” Stiles yells childishly. Scott smiles at him and nods,

“Yeah this is a new Ferrari model. Peter's driving the older version, I’m finally able to try this baby out! ” Stiles laughs and shakes his head at Scotts smug face.

“Uh guys, he’s like right behind us…” Lydia says, they both turn to look behind them at Peters silver Lamborghini less than a foot away.

“Shit!” Stiles and Scott yell at the same time, looking at each other they both burst out laughing. Scott pulls on the lever and propels them through the air like a bullet. He laughs as Scott swerves them right and left through the preserve. Once reaching the borders of town Lydia yells,

“Scott head towards the glass towers!” Scott instantly pulls the lever down, slowing them down, they descend lower to the ground in an instant. Stiles looks in the rearview mirror, Peters silver Lamborghini long gone. He sighs deeply, wiping the sweat from his forehead, he looks out to the skyscrapers, getting more and more lavish looking as they fly past.

“Where the hell are we?” He asks in amazement. Lydia snorts in amusement,

“Welcome to the extreme elitist of Beacon Hills. The towns councils humble dwelling.”

“You know about the counsel too? Why am I the only one finding out about this now?” He says annoyed, looking at Scott who tightens his jaw at the mention of them. Lydia sighs,

“Trust me. I had no idea too until Peter took me to one of their little soirees this morning. By what Peter has told me their all just corrupt gangsters, human, drug, and food trafficking, well you name it really. They took over Beacon Hills when the human population dropped down to 5% and of course, Peter being the business man he is owns all these buildings…”

“What! No way!” He looks over at Scott for confirmation and from the deep sigh along with the white knuckled grip he has on the steering wheel, his disapproval is clear. 

“Scott?” Scott slows down the car considerably as they come to a stop at an in close structure of modern styled, glass buildings. Stiles looks around and notices how Scott's chosen position allows him to see the full perimeter around them.

“Smart move Scotty.” Glancing back at Scott who's running a hand through his hair roughly.

“What’s wrong…” Stiles asks hesitantly. Scott sighs, looking at him with alpha red eyes,

“Sorry it’s just…every time I think of how Peter's housing those monsters I lose it a bit. It’s sickening.” He sighs and leans back in his chair,

“Damn…” Stiles shakes his head. He has seen pretty much all of it throughout the years. The human slaves, demonic possessions, and the destruction of the law-enforcement. Hell, at one point he even contributed to the chaos because he remembered what humans were like and he hated them.

The destruction humans had caused the earth, the environment and to the supernatural beings around them was unfathomable and irreversible. And if Stiles was to be brutally honest he still didn’t believe in humankind. Stripping them of their human rights was a bit harsh he admits but if he was asked how he would’ve handled it, he couldn’t come up with a better answer. They destroyed practically everything! Scott basically reads his mind as he says,

“Humans are terrible but they don’t deserve this. We are all part of this planet and destruction only occurs when one particular species thinks they're better than the other. It’s disgusting what we're doing. We should be leading by example.”

“Exactly…” Lydia says, from the back as Stiles smiles and looks behind him. Coughing in his hand as he says hypocrite under his breath. Scott laughs then, glancing back at Lydia through the rearview mirror.

“Hey! My relationship with Peter is purely just sexual! A onetime thing at that…or maybe a 5 time thing. Ok if we’re being honest. I’ve lost count how many times…” Scott and Stiles laugh out loud as Lydia continues,

“But! I’m still on your side! I think what he’s doing is terrible!”

“Haha Lydia, we’re just joking. I really shouldn’t be talking...” He blushes thinking of leaving the younger Hale there on the floor. If Derek didn’t hate him before, he definitely does now.

Scott groans, “Please guys, keep the details to yourselves ok? We need to stay focused. Aren’t we getting the pendant?” He sighs, sitting back and grabbing his seat to brace himself.

“Yeah, I guess we are. It’s at my dad's house.” Scott nods, putting the car in gear and speeding out of there. He doesn’t need to tell Scott where to go, they make it over to the far left side of town where their old neighborhood use to be in record timing but as they approach, his heart drops. Looking around at the barren land, he starts to hyperventilate as they fly pass the desert looking land, completely obliterated with no civilian houses in sight.

“Let me out…” Stiles says, quietly. Scott glances at him and immediately lowers the car, transforming it back to its original form. Getting out, Stiles stumbles over his feet, walking over and falling to his knees. He grabs a handful of sand and watches it disappear through his fingers. Feeling a strong hand on his shoulder, he says,

“It’s gone. Everything’s gone Scott…” Stiles says looking up at him who has tears in his eyes, looking over to the obliterated remains of their old neighborhood. Scott sniffs and nods,

“Well, I guess... it had to happen sooner or later Stiles.” Scott says looking back down at him as he squeezes his shoulder reassuringly.

“That house was the only remaining thing I had left of my dad…Our house…the pendant...It's gone.” He says, feeling an overwhelming sense of numbness wash over him. Scott kneels down beside him and puts an arm around his shoulders, pushing him closer to his chest so they are hugging as Scott whispers in his ears.

“I’m here with you now, Stiles. Right here. I’ll always be here to look after you. You’ll never be alone okay? I promise.” He closes his eyes, leaning into Scott's hold as he sighs deeply. Scott rubs at his back and in that moment, he was hugging his dad.

Stiles brings his arms around Scott to make the hug last for a little longer as the memory fades and Scott pats his back. Standing up, Scott reaches out his hand, which Stiles takes, both of them walking back to the car in silence. The harness comes around him automatically again. He feels Lydia hug him from behind, laughing out loud, he caresses her arm.

“Thanks Lydia.” Stiles smiles at her as Lydia moves to the other side of the car to hug Scott.

“You need one too.” Lydia says as Scott smiles and blushes like a dork.

He sighs contently, “Ok! Enough hugging! We've got a job to do!” Lydia and Scott laugh as they're once again heading back into the preserve. The sun was setting as they make their way through town, Stiles leaning back and watching the Skyscrapers of Beacon Hills pass them by when he asks,

“You don’t think they have the pendant, do you?” Scott glances at him,

“The council? I doubt it. They wouldn’t know what to do with it…”

“Or maybeee they do. Guys, we have company!” Lydia says sitting up suddenly and looking out the window.

“Someone’s following us?” He glances over to the review mirror and sure enough there were two hover motorcycles following them about five feet behind.

“Shit! We need to lose them! Scott!” Scott nods,

“Hold on!” Scott yells as they propel forward, the surroundings zipping past them when they enter the preserve.

Scott tries everything to lose them, swerving through the trees and under low bridges but they won't get off their tail.

“Lydia, got any bright ideas?” Stiles yells behind him. Lydia yells back,

“We need to stop! It’s useless trying to lose them. Their androids!”

He sighs deeply, knowing Lydia was right. Androids would know the area better than any of them, their built in gps routers, powered by the satellites in space would give them exact coordinates to take to give them an advantage against their targets.

Scott swerves around again and flies to a nearby road, lowering the car to a stop on the ground. Getting out immediately Scott, Stiles and Lydia stand together as they wait for the androids to land. His hands already twitching with the need to kill.

The androids get off their bikes in one fluent motion, but something in their forced movements has him thinking that maybe they were something else but oh god, does Stiles hate when he’s right.

Taking off their helmets he grimaces as their human dead eyes stare back at them. Rotting skin splotchy with decay and teeth rotten and yellow as they look between them. This is what happens when Demons possess human bodies, killing them from the inside out as its host drains the life out of them.

“If it isn’t the leeches of hell! Come to say hi and welcome your fellow brethren to the community?” He says, with a sly smirk. The one with the missing eye laughs hoarsely, deep and inhuman, coughing up blood in his efforts.

Scott tenses by his side, hands curling and knuckles white. He knew they didn’t have much time before Scott attacked so he decided to just end it himself before things got out of hand.

His claws drip with black blood as he holds the human possessed, rotting heart in his hand, glaring at the other Demon who roars, lunging towards him but before he can tear its heart out of its chest cavity, Scotts snapping its neck and ripping its head off. He laughs as Scott growls, looking back at Stiles with shifted red eyes, he gives him a toothy grin, transforming back to his human form.

Stiles and Scott step back as the Demon's true black, shapeless forms sink into the earth, disappearing into the ground and killing the living grass around it.

“They'll come back for us. We need to warn the others.” He says, glancing back at Scott and Lydia as they both pull out their phones and start texting. Scotts and Lydia’s phones start vibrating in an instant, both of them picking up immediately as Scott says,

“Derek?”

“Yeah I got your text.” Derek’s voice coming through the phone responds. Stiles relaxes momentarily as he listens onto their call.

“Get out of there!” Derek says, half snarling. Scott looks at him immediately with concern as he nods,

“Ok, meet you at the house?” Scott asks hesitantly.

“Go now Scott.” Scott hangs up and looks at him with concern as Lydia comes over still on the phone, motioning for them to get into the car. Scott races down to the Hales estate.

“Allison stay there! You hear me?” Lydia yells as Scott speeds down the now dusk road.

“What? I can’t hear you Allison!” Lydia says over the phone as he glances behind at her before getting jolted forward as Scott yells shit before braking. Nearly inches away from Allison whose standing in the middle of the street, gaping, still clutching onto the phone, her other hand holding her crossbow. She jumps in excitement as they make their way over to her.

“Allison are you out of your mind?” Stiles yells running over and hugging her, looking her over to make sure she’s not possessed or drugged. She laughs, a dimpled smile as she pushes him away, hugging Lydia.

“You scared the crap out of us Allison! Where is everyone? Why are you by yourself?” Lydia asks, as Stiles looks around for any other members of his clan. Allison shakes her head, smile replaced with a frown as she says,

“We all split up to avoid getting followed, but when I got your texts I knew you guys had to be close by so I was hoping to catch you guys on your way to the Hales.” Stiles shakes his head at her, smirking, thankful that Allison was one of the best trackers in their clan with her back ground in hunting and specialty in Taekwondo. Allison was a force to be reckon with. Lydia sighs deeply, flipping her hair, a sign of nerves he knew all too well as she says,

“Ugh. I need a Xanax…”

He smirks but before he’s able to respond a ground shaking howl ricochets through the forests trees. Scott promtply responds back, howling loudly,he transforms mid jump, running into the dense forest of the preserve. Stiles yells,

“Follow him!” As they run after Scott's wolf form. Scotts fully shifted wolf, covered in chocolate dark brown hair and red eyes makes it easy to track him. Running deep into the forest, he makes sure to cover them from the back incase something decided to attack them.

Running along he doesn’t even realize the different route they’ve taken until they make it into the clearing a few hours later. Standing in an unknown part of the woods, Stiles walks over to Scott's side whose growling and snarling at an invisible object in front of him.

“Isn’t there someone else you guys can torture?!” He yells, transforming himself, red bloodshot sclera and protruding veins around his eyes, he lets his fangs elongate as he hisses, crouching down ready to attack.

An inhuman dark laugh surrounds them as several other black shadows form right before their eyes, so dark they appear solid with their opaqueness as the grass around them lights on fire. Standing in front of them were what appeared to be black-cloaked figures but if looked closely, only held more darkness. Eliminated by the fire, he only catches the shadowy figure flicker before it's standing right in front of him.

“Probably, but we’ve chosen you…” Stiles hisses, as the cloak figure unveils itself as his dad.

He claws through its neck as it disappears through his fingers like smoke.

Demons were truly pathetic, deviant little things. He smiles at the other Demons who turn towards his direction.

Stiles knew how Demons worked, being a Vampire gave him an advantage because his kind were able to see them. The little faults in their disguised human bodies, sense their darkness, with stand their touch, and just as easily kill them.

See, Vampires although still able to function like the living were still actually dead, making them supernatural beings who stood between the realms of the living and the afterlife. The only difference between Vampires and Demons were their energy sources, souls vs blood, such a fine line…

When he sees the dark shadow appear in front of Scott, he lunges himself in front of it before its able to touch him. Scott still being vulnerable to its power, the cloak figure disappears, standing near the other like forms.

“You know Vampire. We Demons pity you. Living life’s heaviest burden must be tiring. To live this life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and sigh, must return to you and all in the same succession and sequence. The eternal hourglass of existence is turned over again and again and you with it no more than a speck of dust!”

He looks over at Lydia, her eyes wide as her jaw tightens, obviously toying with her fears, the demons clearly aware who the real threat was here. He smirks shaking his head at their carelessness as he says,

“Hey, do yourself a favor and stop talking right now.”

Another wretched howl resonates through the air but this time, much closer and louder, shaking the ground and through Stiles’s very bones. His instincts telling him it's Derek’s as Scott howls back, running past the Demons who laugh wickedly.

“Scott!” Stiles warns as the shadows follow him. He runs after them, knowing Lydia and Allison were close behind. Laughing into his ears Stiles snarls, catching up to a shadow and clawing through it. Running with all his might to catch up but when Stiles finally finds Scott, it's too late.

Stiles gasps, slowing himself to a halt as he looks at the dark cloaked Demon standing over Derek’s unconscious body as a group of possessed humans chant a Latin spell in a circle around them, which he translates to, “Here in the Forest, Dark and Deep. I offer you eternal Sleep,” in his mind. 

The other wolves transformed and howling helplessly as they circle around the group of possessed humans. He looks around and sure enough, Isaac, Danny and Jackson are knocked out cold. Allison runs over to them in an instant, inspecting their wounds. He hisses loudly, running up to them about to attack before the cloak shadow turns to him,

“Don’t come near Vampire unless you want to join him.” In that instant Derek screams in bloody agony, contorting on the floor as the Triskelion tattoo on his back swirls like it’s alive. He swallows,

“He means nothing to me. Why do you think I took the pendant? It’s mine now and when I find it, I’m going to kill the person who’s taken it from me. You can go ahead and tell the counsel that too.”

“Listen Vampire…” The Demon says but Stiles interrupts,

“No you listen to me! Undo this curse, or I’ll show you things worse than any death imaginable!” He yells in anger, ripping out the heart of one of the possessed and throwing the bloody heart to the ground. The Demon laughs as he says,

“Is that a challenge? Don’t you know not to play with the Devil, he always cheats.” His eyes widen as the Demon vanishes in thin air as Derek screams again. The circle lifts their linked hands together as there's a sudden burst of flames and their gone, Derek along with them. A loud ear piercing boom sound vibrates the forest ground like a bomb went off as the wind whips his face.

Stiles's scream no, fades in his ears as the loud ringing momentarily deafens him. He falls to the ground from the earthquake. The vibration so strong he feels the earth cracking underneath him. Looking around Lydia’s blurred out form stands motionless in front of him as the world around him tunes back in and all he’s able to hear is Lydia’s scream.

Sitting up instantly, he only has a few seconds to register what’s happening, as the ground falls underneath him. Stiles realizing for the first time that the cliff they were standing on was literally breaking off the mountain. He crouches down, looking around as the unconscious bodies fly past him and off the cliff. The sound of them hitting the water the only warning Stiles has until he’s bracing himself and falling off as well.

When Stiles body slams into the lake down below, there’s a moment of dysphoria as he opens his eyes and looks around him, only coming back to reality when he spots Scotts unconscious body floating near him. He quickly swims over to him, looking around but not being able to see anyone else due to the murky water.

Coming up for air, he hears his name being called, looking around and seeing Allison waving at him from over on the shore. He pulls Scotts unconscious body along until their back on dry land and Stiles is trying to give Scott the Heimlich maneuver. Everything goes quiet except for his heartbeat pounding through his ears as Scott continues to not breathe.

Stiles's hands tremble as he pumps at Scott’s chest, over and over but gets no response. It's only when he gets pushed back by Danny that he realizes he’s having a full blown panic attack.

Heart beat deafening, he shakes uncontrollably, unable to breathe in fully, he hyperventilates, breaking out in a cold sweat, he curls in on himself. Watching Danny perform the Heimlich maneuver to Scott until he’s leaning over to listen to his heart and shaking his head at Jackson, who throws Scotts lifeless body over his shoulder.

Isaac comes over to him and forces him to stand, putting his arm around his shoulder but then he's succumbing to the ringing in his ears, fainting in Isaac’s hold. When he wakes up again, he’s looking up at his formal living rooms ceiling, eliminated by the fireplace as he sits up.

“Stiles…” Allison says, smiling sadly, looking down at him. She sits next to him and puts an arm around his shoulders.

“How are you feeling?” He runs a shaky hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at her, he swallows hard.

“I’m fine Allison. Just great…” Allison sighs deeply, rubbing his back.

“Scotts in the other room if you want to see him. The packs staying with us for the next couple of days. We agreed to help each other find out who’s responsible for this.” He nods numbly, watching as Allison leaves, standing up and walking over to the door, he reaches for the door knob just as it's being twisted and pulled open. Stiles steps back.

“Hey.” Scott says, smirking and closing the door from behind him. Stiles eyes widen, looking him over, he pulls Scott in for a hug instantly, holding him tight to his chest, it's only then that he lets himself feel.

Bursting out into tears, Scott hugs him just as tightly, rubbing his back as he just sobs and sobs, unable to even speak, he lets go of all the pent up misery of actually thinking he'd lost Scott forever. He pushes Scott away after a few minutes, laughing at himself for not being able to stop the tears rolling down his face. Scott wipes at his eyes too, though looking at Stiles worryingly.

He shrugs, huffing out a laugh as he says,

“Humanity isn't all it's cracked up to be.” Scott’s concerned eyes widen with realization of what Stiles just said.

“Seriously?” Scott says in amazement, a huge goofy smile breaking across his face. Stiles shrugs sheepishly. 

“Love makes people do stupid things Scotty.” Scott's jaw drops,

“Oh my god! That’s so awesome! Love you too bro!” Scott says, smiling widely as he pushes Stiles playfully. Stiles glares at him before putting Scott in a headlock.

“Don’t you ever do that again! You hear me!” He yells as Scott laughs out loud, making pretend choking noises before Stiles pushes him away. Both of them laugh as they walk out of the room. Making their way down the hall, Stiles hears Peter's harsh whispering from the open doors of the library. He glances at Scott who nods in agreement and follows him, walking straight in on Lydia’s and Peters conversation.

“Hmm what do we have here. The only Hale left standing, unharmed and alive, what a coincidence.” Stiles says. Peter's jaw tightens, rolling his eyes.

“Not that you actually care since you said, oh what were the words? Oh right, that he means nothing to you. I actually have faith that my nephew will be alright. He’s too stubborn to die.” Peter says nonchalantly, leaning back against the desk. Lydia slams the book she’s been reading closed from behind him. Peter visibly flinches away from the desk when she stands while giving him a murderous glare. 

“It should take you exactly four seconds to cross from here to that door. I’ll give you two...” Peter looks at her with wide eyes, mouth gaping, looking lost between wanting to say something and thinking better of it. Stiles laughs out loud before deciding to spare him,

“I think it’s actually best if he stays here where I can keep an eye on him.”

Peter scoffs. Lydia straightens and nods, giving him a tight lipped smile before leaving the room with a book held against her chest. He could practically feel the anxiety radiating off of her when she passes, quickly leaving the room without a word. Stiles watches as she goes in worry, feeling like he’s missed a signal or something. Peter tries to follow but Stiles grabs his arm before he's able to go.

“If you hurt her…” He warns through gritted teeth before Peters ripping his hand away from Stiles hold and seemlessly replicates the Hales sassy signiture move, rolling his eyes, 

“You'll castrate me? Don’t worry about it. I’m more afraid of her than you.”

"As you should be." Stiles says, stepping away to allow the wolf a clear path of escape.

Peter smiles at him, flashing his electric blue eyes but wisely chooses to leave. Scott sighs deeply once Peter's out of ear shot next to him. 

“Stiles what are you going to do? Without Derek…” He huffs out a frustrated breath, answering Scotts question before its even left his mouth,

“I don’t know Scott ok? There’s no way out of this. We all know the drill. You feed or you die. There’s no door number three.” Scott sighs again.

“Peters right though. Derek’s pretty tough. I know he’ll hold up until we find him.” Stiles gives him a small smile as Scott pats him on the shoulder. Following Scott out, they walk up to his room. He gives Scott a pair of pjs that he changes into, making his way over to the bed Scott says,

“Aren’t you getting in?” Motioning to the bed. He smirks, shaking his head.

“I’m a Vampire Scott. We don’t need to sleep. I’ll be downstairs, keeping watch.” Scott nods and yawns,

“Night Stiles.”

“Good Night Scott.” Stiles says as he walks out of his room.

He goes down and into the empty kitchen, making his way over to his wine cellar. Looking for his whiskey, he grabs a new glass, popping off the cork, he gracefully drinks straight from the bottle. He walks over to the front entrance and puts the house code in for lockdown. Walking over to the formal living room, he sits down and looks out towards the moon, reflecting on the Demon's words,

“ _The eternal hourglass of existence is turned over again and again and you with it, no more than a speck of dust."_

He admits that there comes a time in every Vampires life when the idea of eternity becomes momentarily unbearable. Living in the shadows, feeding in the darkness with only your own company to keep, it can turn into a solitary hollow existence. Immortality seeming like a good idea, until you realize you’re going to spend it alone.

He's never cared to think about how he would die, though he had reason enough in the last few days, he never imagined it’d be like this. Now on the brink of death, not knowing if Derek was even alive or dead, his humanity fighting its way back in, and with the possibility of just starting a war, Stiles has never felt so unprepared.

He takes a swing of his whiskey. He admits there was something bigger going on here, in this town with Derek, Scott, and his clan and for once he actually feels like the universe meant to bring him back here to Beacon Hills. For what Stiles can't even start to imagine but here he is, right back to where it's all begun. The thought alone makes goosebumps spread across his skin and as if Stiles needs more of a reminder of this coincidence, the following scene happening right before his eyes, is definitely there to remind him.

He'd been looking out into the preserve for the past few hours, when a shadow moves from the corner of his eye, thinking nothing of it until it moves again, gasping, he stands up.

Gaping, he watches the black wolf's form come out of the shadows and into the light from his porch. Red eyes looking directly at him when Stiles notices another dark grey wolf following close behind, both pair of red eyes, unmoving as they walk straight towards him...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Scotts flying cars: http://luxurylaunches.com/transport/2020_lamborghini_minotauro_concept_the_envy_of_the_future.php
> 
>  This chapter inspired by:
> 
> "The heaviest burden: “What, if some day or night, a demon were to steal after you into your loneliest loneliness and say to you: ‘This life, as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and sigh… must return to you—all in the same succession and sequence—even this spider and this moonlight between the trees and even this moment and I myself. The eternal hourglass of existence is turned over again and again—and you with it, speck of dust!’ Would you not throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse the demon who spoke thus? Or have you once experienced a tremendous moment when you would have answered him: ‘You are a god, and never have I heard anything more divine!’ If this thought were to gain possession of you, it would change you as you are, or perhaps crush you. The question in each and every thing, “do you want this once more and innumerable times more?” would lie upon your actions as the greatest weight. Or how well disposed would you have to become to yourself and to life to crave nothing more fervently than this ultimate eternal confirmation and seal?"~ Friedrich Nietzsche, ‘The Gay Science’


	7. Crimson Poison

Stiles takes a step back as the wolves make their way across the yard. Looking at them through the glass windows of the formal living room, his mind races in panic, contemplating on whether he should let them in or not. He can tell by the black wolves size, although identical to Derek’s wolf form, is smaller and leaner than Derek’s.

Finally ripping his eyes away, he makes up his mind, running over to the entrance and releasing the house from lockdown. Stiles hears a loud howl, coming from the back porch that startles him, running back into the kitchen, he slowly approaches the doors.

The black wolf stands on its hind legs, with its front paws against the glass, staring at him as he stands there unsure of what to do. The wolf whines, howling sadly.

“Mom!” Cora cries out as she’s pushing him away in an instant, opening the porch doors, the wolf moves down from the door quickly and transforms in seconds, watching in amazement as human arms come around Cora’s shoulders.

When Stiles hears the wretched sob coming from Derek’s mom he tears up, glancing at Derek’s other sister who joins in the hug. He turns away, swallowing hard he goes into the bathroom to retrieve towels. Coming out just in time to see Derek’s pack coming down the stairs, all of them in pjs, running into the kitchen and crowding around Derek’s mom and sisters in a group hug as Derek’s mom continues to sob.

Stiles feels Scott’s hands on his shoulder as he glances beside him and see’s that his clan had also come out as well. Allison and Isaac, Danny and Jackson, and Lydia and Peter stand together. Stiles looks at Scott again who gives him a small smile, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly, he sighs deeply.

Erica comes over then, taking the towels from his hands, the group parts as she hands them over to what he can make out is Derek’s mom and sister. The pack moves to walk behind the Alphas walking towards him. Stiles gasps in awe, finally getting a good look at Derek’s mother and sister.

They are both stunning, with the same dark features as Derek, Derek’s mom eyes a light brown, the only contrast as his eyes look between them. Derek’s mother wipes a tear from her eyes as she looks at him, reaching for his hand. Stiles unsure of what to do tenses as he takes her hand. Holding his hand lightly she runs her thumb over his knuckles, studying his face. He blushes deeply feeling everyone’s eyes staring at him. Stiles quirks his eyebrows up in confusion at her as she says,

“You're so handsome. I can see why my son chose you as his mate. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

His heartbeat skyrockets, face burning from embarrassment as she hugs him tightly to her chest. Mate? What? Stiles wanted to ask but he didn’t want to be rude so he hugs her back, glancing around at Derek’s pack for answers.

Erica bites her lip at Boyd’s side, trying and failing at suppressing her smile as he glances at Cora whose arching a judgemental brow up at him with the same expression Derek would be giving him right now. When Dereks mother pulls away he glances at Scott who communicates I don’t know what she means either with his wide eyes as Derek’s mom leans in to hug him too. Derek’s twin sister, leans in to bear hug him right after, kissing his cheek lightly in greeting, she gives him a small pained smile before moving over to Scott who whimpers in pain at her bone crushing hug. Stiles smirks, glad Scott's cuteness spared him from the experience, Laura already settling into a special place in his heart. 

“Laura. It’s alright.” Scott says still trying to hug her back to the best of his ability despite getting the air crushed from his lungs, rubbing her back as she cries into his shoulder. Stiles understands, Scott gives awesome hugs. 

“Talia I think we all have some explaining to do. But first why don’t we get you guys inside and dressed. I bet you’re exhausted. Stiles?” Peter says, sauntering over from Lydia’s side. Talia glances at him as he clears his throat.

“Of course, right this way.” Stiles says, leading everyone inside. Scott walks at his side as they lead Talia and Laura to one of his many guest rooms. He opens the doors for them as the pack follow them inside. Closing the door behind them so they can have a moment of privacy, Stiles, Scott and his clan hang outside as they all look at him expectedly.

“So what’s the plan?” Jackson says annoyed, looking half asleep in his Ralph Lauren designer pjs, robe and slippers, clearly not wanting to be there. Stiles smiles to himself at the ridiculous scene infront of him, they were all claded pj wearing Vampires about to have a slumber party with a pack of werewolves. Stiles laughs out loud.

"Earth to Stilinski! Your big head is needed down here on earth!" Stiles sobers quickly, not wanting to deal with a snapping Jackson all night.

“Look, I’ll need some time to talk to them ok? Scott will you back me up?”

Scott nods, “Always.”

“Lydia and Allison can one of you lend them some clothes?” Allison nods,

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll get them right away.” Allison says leaving instantly.  

“Ok then. Danny, I need you and your amazing memory. Jackson, Isaac and Lydia you guys can head back. We’ll have a meeting at noon. No one's allowed to leave. If someone does, report them to me right away. Got it?” They all nod. Jackson kisses Danny as he leaves, following Lydia and Isaac down the hallway.

“Stiles what are you going to tell her?” Scott asks, knowing Stiles knew he was talking about the whole blood bond thing as Stiles shrugs.

“I don’t know. Just back me up ok? I don’t want to make his mom upset.” Scott looks at him with concern but nods anyway. Allison makes it back in record timing.

He takes a deep breath before walking in, interrupting Peter and Talia’s conversation, all the other wolves laying on the king sized bed in a puppy pile. Stiles huffs out a laugh as Talia glances back and orders all the wolves out except for Laura, who thanks Allison for the clothes.

“Give us a moment please.” Talia says, with Laura as they walk into the bathroom to change. Allison leaves, giving Stiles a small smile that he returns nodding to her in thanks.

“Follow my lead without question. Trust me you will thank me later.” Peter says in a hushed whisper. He forwards his brows in confusion as he opens his mouth to protest but then Talia and Laura are walking out of the bathroom. Talia walks over to him and hugs him again.

“Thank you for letting us stay in your beautiful home Stiles,” She says as she moves back, “I know this is awful circumstances for our introduction to one another and I hope you're not overwhelmed by us showing up so unexpectedly. It’s just…” Talia’s voice breaks as her eyes fill up with tears, bottom lip quivering. Laura comes up to put an arm around her shoulder,

“As wolves and as his mother…my bond with Der is very strong and well, when a bond breaks between a wolf and her cub it usually means the absolute worse….” The tears finally spill over her eyes as she sighs deeply, wiping at them as she continues, “Peter has explained to me what happened but it still feels like someone’s ripped out my heart and I can't even imagine what your going through as his mate…”

She swallows hard, reaching for his hand, Stiles quickly looks at Peter who nods slightly, so this is what he meant…

She looks into his eyes determinedly as she says, “We will do everything in our power to help you find him Stiles. You have our word.” He gives her a small smile as he squeezes her hand reassuringly,

“Thank you so much and I completely understand. There’s no need to apologize. I know you guys must be exhausted traveling all the way from South Africa but if there’s any information you can give us on the Triskelion symbol and what powers it has over you and your pack, it will help us greatly. I need to know what those demons are after.”

Talia nods, taking her hand away she pushes her hair back to one side, tilting her head so he can see the same Triskelion tattoo behind her ear. He gasps in amazement. After a moment she untucked her hair back into place.

“The Triskelion is a powerful Celtic rune that has been in the Hale family for centuries. We Hale's are the original bloodlines of the Lycanthropes, fully shifted wolves of the Nemeton who possess its magic. Our kind are rare and have been sought after for centuries for our powers but when the Nemeton was destroyed during the war, the hunters stripped us of our magic and cursed us to live immortal lives. We have been stuck in time ever since and anyone who is bitten by us is cursed to live the same fate…” Talia’s eyes glance at Scott who gives her a small smile. He nods and says,

“So they lift the curse to gain access to your powers, taking Derek as the sacrifice. But how is that possible if the Nemeton is destroyed?” Scott nods his head in agreement. He glances back at Talia lost in thought,

“I don’t know. If they lifted the curse I don’t understand how we are even alive. We all should’ve turned to dust by now. Maybe it hasn’t kicked in yet. Maybe what we felt as our bond breaking with Derek was instead the release of the curse. I don’t know…”

Stiles glances at Scott then, remembering Scott’s body floating in the water, the pain of the bond breaking with Derek so excruciating painful, he fell unconscious. He feels a sudden flash of guilt as the severity of the situation comes crashing down on him.

“So Derek's…Derek’s really dead then…. “ Stiles says as flashes of Derek’s handsome face smirking at him, teasing him, run through his mind. It’s all his fault, taking the pendant and being stupid enough to think that he could get away with it, without anyone finding out. He started all of this and now he was going to pay for it with his best friends...brothers life.

He huffs out a laugh as he looks at Scott, who’s staring at him with concern as a tear spills from over his eyes. Scott puts an arm on his shoulder as Stiles hangs his head, instantly knowing, exactly what he was thinking before the words even come out of his mouth.

“It’s not your fault Stiles.” Scott says, squeezing his shoulder. Talia breaks down then as she hugs Laura tightly to her chest. Danny sighs deeply,

“They’ll come after you one at a time. Stripping you of your powers and building enough power to resurrect the Nemeton to use to take control of Beacon Hills once and for all….”

“I wouldn’t be so sure…” Peter says smirking as everyone turns to look at him.

“They could be using Derek as bait, by keeping him as hostage. It’s easy to assume the worst. It weakens people’s resolves to do exactly what their opponent wants them to do. But in reality we still don’t know for certain what their motives are and to be honest, if I was going to kill a pack of magical wolves, I wouldn’t kill them right away, I’d use them to my advantage.” Stiles wipes at his eyes angrily squinting at Peter as he says,

“Straight from a sociopaths mouth. I suppose it’s only logical. Well what do you suggest we do?” Peter huffs out a laugh.

“We’ll use persuasion of course. If you have the power to persuade than you have the power to bargain.” Stiles rolls his eyes and sighs deeply,

“The ever optimistic business man I see. But there’s always a risk and we don’t have the means to take chances.”

“Exactly. You fake it till you make it. Then pull the rug from under them. It’ll take them by surprise. Might even scare them a bit. Send those Demons running right back to hell where they belong.” He sighs and nods, noticing Danny looking at him with a glint in his eye. Stiles squints at him as he licks his lips.

“Danny? Care to share?…” Danny shakes his head frantically, looking away in an instant. “Please Danny. I’d rather know what you're thinking even if what you’re thinking is insane.” Danny sighs looking back at him guiltily,

“Not sure you're going to want to hear what I have to say….” Stiles presses his lips together and nods his head.

“Yeah Danny I would.” Danny sighs again, looking away as he says,

“One of us needs to go out there. It’s the only way we’ll stand a chance…” Stiles nods. A Vampire. Scott looks back at him instantly with wide eyes.

“No! No Stiles! That’s a death wish!”

“Scott I’ve been dead before. I've gotten over it. I’m dying anyway….” Laura looks between them with wide eyes as she says,

“What do you mean?” Stiles sighs, knowing he can’t let them know about the blood bond between Derek and him so he responds with,

“I’ll make a deal with the Devil. It’s the only way they will tell me what they want with your pack. Hopefully, I’ll be able to return before they drag me off to hell.” He's not lying. Most likely he'll be taken in Derek's place but he won't tell anyone else that. Talia shakes her head pushing off from Laura.

“No there must be another way…” He shakes his head as he smiles,

“It’s the only way. Being a Vampire I’m not affected by a Demons black magic. I’m already dead. I can’t burn in hell. I’m already in it.” Talia shakes her head.

“Stiles at least see what we can do with the connections we have around the realm. At least let us try to save you!” Talia says voice shaking, as her eyes flash red with anger.

“Do as you wish but my identity can’t be exposed. I have pretty big targets on my back. I’m afraid no one's going to come help you if they find out I’m involved.” Talia nods, looking at him with new realization of the darkness behind his eyes. Stiles can’t blame her for making her judgments; he has done some awful things in his past. Now he must pay for them.

“Good night Mrs. Hale. Laura...” He says as he turns to leave. Scott and Danny following him close behind out into the hall.

“Stiles…” Peter says from behind them. Stiles turns slightly. “Don’t let your heart do anything stupid.”

He smirks, stopping dead in his tracks, he sing songs, "Cross my heart and hope to die," behind him as he turns and continues walking down the hallway.    

Danny leaves with a pat on his back as he takes Scott the rest of the way to his room in a tense, heavy silence. Neither of them wanting to elaborate on the impending doom they would be having to face tomorrow and in that moment Stiles couldn't be more thankful, knowing that Scott shared the burden of this decision with him as if it were his own, Stiles couldn't have asked for a better brother.

“Stiles?" He stops, Scott's voice snapping him out of his thoughts where they stand in front of the doors that will soon send them their separate ways, he couldn't help feeling like this would be the symbolism of their relationship for the rest of their lives. Stiles going one way and Scott the other, only crossing paths to separate again, the door between them the undeniable differences and obstacles that will evidently block them from ever being truly on the same page and understanding.

"See you tomorrow. Right?” Scott says faintly in his ears. He looks away, not wanting to meet his gaze, worried that Scott would be able to see through his lie.

"Yeah sure thing Scotty. Good night..." Stiles was about to turn away when he feels a hand land on his shoulder, making him practically jump out of his skin. Looking up he meets Scott's worried eyes, looking deep into his eyes as if trying to read his soul, searching to find out if something was wrong. Stiles determinedly meets his steady gaze, needing Scott to trust that he was ok. The hand on his shoulder tightens,

"Goodnight Stiles, I love you." Stiles swallows, feeling his face heat up, he buries his face in Scott's shoulder, hugging him tightly as he says,

"I love you too bro." He leans back, holding Scott shoulders, so he could see the forced smirk on his lips before nodding and turning around, walking away.

The purposely loud sigh from behind him shortly after, followed by the louder than usual click of the door closing a clear indication that Scott knew he was full of shit. Stiles laughs silently to himself, walking the rest of the way down the corridor, surprised that even after all these years somethings never change.

He goes straight down to the kitchen. Grabbing his whiskey bottle, he walks to the front door, puts the house on lockdown and closes the door behind him.

He chugs the entire bottle, throwing the now empty glass against a nearby tree.

Transforming, the veins spread around his eyes and fangs elongate as he let’s his own curse take over before running off into the darkness.

He walks the dark alleyways of town, sniffing out any unexpecting prey but people of Beacon Hills are smart. The roads are empty and silent as he walks in the middle of the street, walking a fair amount of distance before he’s able to catch anyone out and about. But of course there are always those innocent souls who think they are safe from the things that go bump in the night.

He walks back onto the sidewalk, watching as a man closes the gates to his store. His breath shallows as he approaches silently from behind, breathing in the scent of the blood from beneath his skin. Veins thrumming as they move the blood through his arteries. Stiles grabs the guy from the back of his jacket and pulls him into the dark alleyway, sinking his fangs into the guy's neck and ripping through his skin.

Sucking out his entire body’s blood supply in seconds, the guy slows down considerably in his struggles against him as his limbs go limp and he lies dead in Stiles’ fangs. Stiles throws the dead body against the wall as he bends over and pukes up his stomach contents of the guys blood.

“Ugh so fucking disgusting…” He says to himself at the bitter aftertaste of the high cholesterol blood. He slumps against the wall, leaning his back against it as he looks up to the night sky. Remembering Derek’s blood, so thick, smooth, and taste so pure.

He squeezes his eyes shut as flashes of Derek appear clearly in his mind. Stiles would have given his life to have one more night with him. To have Derek’s warm hands all over him, to feel the press of his lips against his neck, to be so full and satisfied again. Stiles can’t believe he took it all for granted. Now look at him…

He opens his eyes, wiping the blood from his mouth, he looks down at the familiar sight of his hands covered in someone else’s blood. He huffs out a laugh. Stiles knew better than to expect anything else. He was a Vampire after all. He belonged to the night and the night belonged to him.

Letting the night enfold him in its arms, he becomes one with the shadows, eyes rolling back as his instincts take control once again, giving into the need to kill.

He doesn’t remember how many humans he killed that night, maybe 50, 100? Stiles isn’t sure and he doesn’t care.

All he remembers was having way too much fun making a little girl cry as he laughed hysterically in her face, holding her against the wall by her throat, making her watch as her mother died a foot away from the loss of blood to her brain.

Stiles has a special fixation on instilling terror into the minds of innocence. Some part of him thinks it’s his own sick way of helping them. To make them realize that life can be more terrifying than horror movies, or that monsters are real and evil preys on the innocent.

Maybe that’s why he silences her screams, to stop her suffering, to save her from the cruel reality of the world.

He snaps her neck easily in his hands. Her small body light as a feather falling as he releases her from his hold, watching as her body hits the ground. Stiles turns numbly away, dripping in blood, feet dragging as he walks the whole way back to his estate.

He enters the code, letting himself in easily as he walks up the stairs to his bedroom, walking past Scotts sleeping form.

He strips immediately, throwing the bloodied, heavy clothes away in disgust.

Once inside the shower he let’s the water run over him, watching as the water turns red around his feet. The sudden feeling of nauseousness hits him as he dry heaves over and over but nothing comes out.

The content of his stomach completely empty as he gasps, falling down to his knees and curling in on himself in a fetal position. Stiles doesn’t know how much time goes by but at some point he just gets up and washes himself, rubbing his skin until it’s raw.

Walking out he looks over to his bed but Scott's not there.

Thinking nothing of it, he walks past, towel wrapped around his waist to his closet but before he’s able to open the door, Scotts slamming the door closed from behind him.

Jumping, he turns to look back at him. Scotts red alpha eyes shine with tears as he pushes Stiles up against the door, hand around his throat.

“Why! Why did you kill them Stiles! What did you do?” Scott screams in his face, tears streaming down his eyes, in his half shifted form. He chokes, unable to speak as Scott’s hand crushes his esophagus.

“You’re a monster! How could you! You reek of their blood!” Stiles eyesight darkens as he suffocates from the loss of oxygen but before he’s able to pass out, Scott's releasing him from his hold.

He gags for air as Scott sobs, grabbing at his hair as he paces back and forth, hitting his head over and over as he snarls, trying to suppress his wolf from shifting completely and killing Stiles right then and there.

Stiles slumps back on the wall, smiling to himself as he thinks of how perfect his plans going. “Come on! Kill me Scott! Release me from my misery...”

“Shut up Stiles!” Scott snarls, still pacing.

“I killed them!’ He yells manically. “I watched as their lives drained from their eyes! I drank their blood, I snapped a little girl's neck!” Scott snarls, half shifting as he grabs one of his couches and slams it down on the floor, punching it and ripping it to shreds with his claws in a blind rage.

Stiles laughs as Scott falls down to his knees, fisting his clawed hands as he closes his eyes, panting heavily.

“See, you want to hate me, don’t you? But you can't because you pity me...” He laughs again as Scott glares at him with his alpha red eyes.

"Shut. up. Stiles."

“Just stop Scott! Stop trying to dig through the darkness. Stop trying to find something to justify your feelings, it won't take you long to realize I’m black to the core.” Scott growls, standing up, he stalks over to him. His heart skyrockets, accepting his fate as Scott slams him against the door, arm holding him down as he glares back into his eyes.

“No! You're wrong! You have no idea what you’re even talking about Stiles! Let me help you!” Stiles huffs out a laugh to cover the sob that's stuck in his throat, if only he'd had a dollar everytime someones said those exact words to him. Stiles hates this, hearing Scott pained voice repeating those awful words, knowing there'd always be a part of himself that Scott would never be able to accept. Making up excuses for him like Stiles wasn't aware it's his fault for the deaths he's cost will only make matters worse if he lets Scott continue to talk himself into denial. He just hopes Scott makes it quick.

“No, Scott. You have no idea what I’m talking about, and that’s the problem. I’ve chosen to be this way...” Scott shakes his head, looking away as tears roll down his cheeks. He opens his mouth to say something but he chokes up unable to speak. He pushes Stiles away and runs out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Stiles shakingly sighs. Failing at upsetting Scott enough to kill him left him with only one other option.

It was going to cost him everything.

He walks numbly over to his closet, getting dressed in pjs, he grabs the secret stash of joints he's got hidden away in his safe for times exactly like these. Walking out of his closet, he stops suddenly again as Lydia stands in the middle of his room. Eyes glazed over, looking straight ahead at nothing but the blank wall ahead.

“Lydia?...” Lydia’s mouth twitches but in an instant her eyes are rolling back into her head and she _screams_.

He instantly covers his ears, falling to his knees as the shriek deafens him and rattles his bones but then it suddenly stops and he’s left with nothing but the ringing in his ears.

“Lydia!” Peter yells, running over to her unconscious body lying on the floor. Picking her up in his arms, he shakes her as he yells her name again. Stiles stands running over and dropping to his knees next to her, listening in to her heartbeat skyrocketing in her chest.

"What’s wrong? What happened? Lydia?” Allison yells, running over to them.

“I think she’s having hysterics, maybe you should slap her…” Isaac says, following her from close behind.

The rest of his clan come in as well. Stiles didn't think the demons would make a move so soon. Damn it! If only he had more time!

He stands, fisting his hands in rage as he looks down at Lydia's unconscious form.

“She…She was just standing there in the middle of my room, screamed, and then passed out.. I think she’s possessed.” Allison looks at him like he’s crazy as she looks back down at Lydia.

“She’s not fucking possessed! She’s part Banshee! Haven’t you ever heard a Banshee scream before?” Peter snarls.

“Everyone back to your rooms! Now!” Talia yells at her pack, closing the door behind her, she walks over to them cautiously.

“She’s a banshee? How is that possible?” Talia asks as she stands next to him. Stiles swallows, if Peter was right, things just got a hell of lot worse.

He leans closer to her, examining her eyes as they move rapidly back and forth from beneath her eyelids. He clears his throat,

“Before she was turned Lydia had started showing early signs of becoming a Banshee. Her parents sent her away to a nunnery where they tried to exorcist the Demons out of her. She went insane...”

“Lydia hasn’t had those powers for decades!” Jackson says defensively, glaring at him before looking back down at his best friends unconscious body.

“This must be linked to the explosion. Something must have brought back her powers…” Danny says. He nods,

“Yeah, She seemed off when I talked to her earlier...” Could that have been the reason for the argument he interrupted between Peter and Lydia? Lydia shoots up then, gasping as she looks around the room frantically. He backs off, distancing himself by reflex.

“Get off me!” She yells throwing Peter hard into the wall. Peter slumps down from the wall, knocked out. Lydia curls in around herself as she rocks herself back and forth, covering her ears, she mumbles incoherent words to herself.

“What is wrong with her!” Talia snarls.

“Just give her some space....” Stiles says watching as she hyperventilates. He walks cautiously closer to her, “What is it Lydia? I’m right here. Come on, its alright, tell me what’s happening…” He says as he bends down next to her slowly.

“They’re so loud Stiles!” Lydia cries out, grabbing him by the arm, wide eyes staring back at him with absolute terror. “Derek…Derek’s screams they won’t stop….they won’t stop torturing him!…he’s dying! They're killing him Stiles! The voices they won’t stop! They..they're driving me insane! I just….I need them to go away!” He nods, swallowing hard as he holds onto her, watching as she trembles.

“It’s ok Lydia I’m here…right here.” He says trying to soothe her but she shakes her head frantically,

“No! No Stiles! Can’t you hear them? They’re chanting your name! The boy who runs with wolves! They’re going to kill you!” He sighs deeply,

“Listen to me…Lydia listen to my voice. They aren’t real! You and I are real! We're alive!” He grabs her face with both hands, looking into her glazed over red shot eyes, the steady stream of tears rolling down her cheeks. She gasps, stilling as her eyes finally clear with clarity, staring at him with parted lips, 

“Stiles why are they laughing?…Wha…What did you do!” She cries out, pushing his hands away in disgust.

Leaning back on his knees, a small smile tugging on his lips. It seems the demons are onto him just like he's planned.

“Like the saying goes the devil makes us sin… If I don’t kill a man every now and then, he forgets who I am...” Stiles stands and reaches down for her hand but she knocks it away, standing on her own, her eyes downcast in defeat as she says,

“We’ve learned a better way...” The disappointment clear in her voice. A sardonic smile twists his lips, shrugging while he responds,

“What can I say? I’m guilty as charged. It was a good plan until....now.” Lydia rolls her eyes.

“I agree…” Isaac says.

“Shut up.” Allison hits him in the arm.

“You're going to look like a total idiot when your captured and I’m the one who has to save you.” Lydia says matter of factly, crossing her arms.

Stiles looks away, doubt still a somewhat foreign concept to him but he feels it all the same, the feeling starting to creep its way in.

“Stiles…for what we want most, there is always a cost that must be paid for in the end…” Talia says sadly, her brown eyes looking at him with a wiseness far beyond her years.

The room is silent as everyone turns to look at the Alpha, having already come to turns with his decision, she stands there not as an opponent but as an allie, waiting for the rest of his clan to comprehend the news.

Being the only person in the room who understood his reasoning, it makes him question whether she knew he’d have to make this decision from the beginning, waiting to see what great lengths he'd go to get her son back, but he guesses it was inevitable that in in the end the decision would be the same, his life in exchange for Dereks.  

He only wonders, in the slight possibility that he makes this out alive, if his clan would ever be able to forgive him as well. He turns away not wanting to see the clans reactions, he didn't think he could bare it. 

“I guess you're right. I’ll just go pack up and go straight to hell now...” He says sarcastically, walking out onto his balcony, fleeing from the tense, sufficating room for some fresh air. Jumping onto the roof he pulls out a joint and lights it, blowing the smoke back into the night sky.

“Stiles? What are you doing?” Lydia calls after him, jumping onto the roof beside him.

“Listening to the universe laugh at me…” She laughs out loud,

“You know your plan wasn’t that stupid. It’s not getting to the afterlife that’s the problem. It’s getting back.”

“Exactly Lydia…I'm not coming back.” Lydia is silent for a few moments, the gears in her genesis head spinning at lightning speed, wishing he'd be able to see all the information she's shifting through to counteract his statement.

“Stiles you’re always the one who figures it out. I’m sure you’ll make it. Maybe, if I just stop trying to fight it…the voices. I can help find him before things can get any worse...”

“No! That sounds like an awful idea Lydia!” He practically yells, flailing as he tries to sit up on his elbows, Lydia forwards her brows in confusion at him.

“Yeah actually, I’m the one who made the mistake. I own it. You're not allowed to feel my guilt and I'd really appreciate it if you'd just stay out of this. I don't want anyone else endangering themselves for me.” Lydia huffs out a laugh.

“You're unbelievable you know that right? I've never meet someone who was such a self sacrificing idiot in my life. You've only known this guy for a few days whose cursed you for eternity might I add and now here we are, talking about how you're going to sacrifice yourself for him! You're absolutely ridiculous!"

Lydia's venting is surprising but not unusual, if he thinks back long enough he can remember her yelling at him like this in their earlier days when Stiles was still freshly bitten and they had teamed up to decode, hours of security systems in a Vampire trading ring. Yeah that was not very fun and as starved as they were it was a miracle they made it out alive and hadn't ripped each other's heads off. Tuning back into Lydia’s very informative dissertation of his life, he listens in to,

 "...and don’t think I haven’t noticed that your humanity is turned on! I know you love Scott and I also know you like Derek! Like a lot. Maybe you’re even in love with him and that’s why you’re so heartbroken about what’s happened to him...” He scoffs,

“Yeah right, I don’t have a romantic bone in my body.”

“Stiles…If you're going to go to such great lengths to bring this guy back from the dead you need to at least tell me the truth before I allow you to risk your life for him.” Stiles sighs, seeing her point, he'd ask her the same.

"I don’t know what I feel ok? The world’s still the same Lydia. Without Derek there’s just… less in it. If I don't find Derek, those demons, they could release the Hale curse and without the curse, it would kill Derek, Scott and everyone else involved and it would be all my fault because I took the damn pendant. I couldn't live with myself Lydia, not after something like that..."

Lydia sighs nodding her head,

"I know how you feel..."

“Wait…You're in love with Peter? Not that I'm...you know what I mean!” He says forwarding his brows as he turns his head to look at her.  Lydia swallows hard as she says,

“No, love is way too strong of a word. Stockholm syndrome is maybe more like it, I mean it's only logical since he's my main source of survival. But if I had to think about him in that contacts and really try to envision it, I guess it's possible. But there are some people you can only love by not being with them. I’ve learned that the hard way throughout the centuries and I will not make that mistake again…” He nods as he looks back at the sky.

Lydia was amazing. Casted away at a very young age by her parents for her supernatural abilities, she was hated by her religious parents. It was only after she returned from the nunnery, successfully escaping where she was tortured daily and found out she was banned from her parents home that she decided to kill them.

The Vampire who turned her was one of the originals, a priest who saw potential in her but of course in the most Vampire like fashion, would drink blood from his holy wine glass and fuck the nuns in the back of the church cathedral. Obviously this didn’t amuse her in the slightest so she killed him. She’s managed to only grow considerably more insane in the last century, which Stiles guiltily blames himself for.

“But…” She says, “When I drink his blood. It’s like I’m in a euphoric place, like his blood is the purest tasting thing there is in the whole entire world and my body for once feels full and satisfied. My urges to feed cease completely and I’m able to feel…to be present in the moment and just feel alive again and I don’t know if I have the strength in me to resist that…”

“But how do you know if it isn’t just some side effect of being poisoned? Isn't that why their blood is so potent because it tastes so damn good…” Lydia sighs deeply as she makes the face where she’s about to educate people on their ignorance.

“No Stiles. Can’t you feel it? It doesn’t kill us because they make their bodies release endorphins, dopamine and serotonin through their blood streams that create the blood/soul bonds we have with them. The poison only occurs when their bodies go into self-defense mode when actively in danger. We are actually drinking the world’s purest blood known to man. Werewolves are immune to any disease and it’s nutritious value are through the charts...”

“Oh. So that explains the sudden need to cum my brains out…”

“Ha. You should try actually having sex with them. They have a few more tricks up their sleeves…”

“Really? Wait how did you…” He glances at her as she smiles wickedly at him. “Oh. I forgot you walked in on us. Must’ve blacked it out from my memory.” Lydia rolls her eyes and sighs deeply,

“Don’t worry about it. You have more important things to think about…” He laughs, glad she was on his side.

“We’ve definitely seen quite a lot in our time. The world is a rather awful place. Best to meet it on its own terms right? Here.” He hands Lydia a joint as she says,

“Yeah, chiefing this whole packet wouldn't be hard at all.”

“Yeah, thats the plan.” Stiles and Lydia chill out on the roof till dusk. Lydia leaving when the sound of birds chirping break the silence between them to check up on Peter.

He stays to watch the sunrise. Thankfully still wearing Lydia's rune ring he's able to appreciate its beauty for the first time since he was human. Acknowledging that this might be the last sunrise he ever sees again.

Once the sun is out and blinding, he sighs deeply and jumps down off the roof. Walking into his room, he showers and changes into his signature black hunters gear and walks out in the hallway.

Stiles hears his voice before he see’s him, quickly running over to Lydia’s room to stop her before it's too late.

Dr. Deaton stands in front of Lydia at the edge of her bed. Lydia sat pretzel styled is breathing in deeply, with her eyes closed as she meditates. Peter and Talia standing off to the back, stare at him as he begrudgingly comes over to watch as well.

“Where are you now Lydia?” Deaton asks in a hushed tone. Her brows pinch.

“I’m up in the mountains. There’s snow cascading down lightly. There’s pine tree’s all around me…It's…It’s so cold.” As she says this the smoke of her breath is visible even in the room-temperature space. He gasps loudly, which has both Talia and Peter giving him the side eye as Deaton says,

“Very good Lydia. Do you think you can walk around?”

“No…” Lydia starts to tremble. Her complexion visibly flushing as she says,

“I’m standing in at least a foot of snow...Wait…I think…I think I smell firewood…and dust.” Stiles bites his lip as he glances at the doctor wanting so badly to say something but he’s afraid of disturbing Lydia’s meditation.

“Ok breathe Lydia. Remember to breathe through your nose and out through your mouth…That’s it.” Lydia’s breath continues to ghost out into the room as she starts to quiver; her entire body now flushed red, as she fists her hands around her knees.

“What do you hear?” Deaton says.

“I hear birds chirping, I hear some crickets…” She gasps, sitting up straighter. “I just heard a howl! Like distinctively in my ears! Whoa! The birds flew away…Oh my god! There’s the smoke! Something’s burning a few feet away from me!”

“That’s ok Lydia. Remember you’re in someone else’s memory. Nothing's real.” Deaton says calmly.

“Sure feels real…” Lydia says as she moves to cross her arms. Stiles eyes widen as he watches in awe at her, still in the trance.

“You're deep into his subconscious. It seems like Derek’s minds blocked something from him which explains why you can't move.”

“Well what am I supposed to do?....I think I just heard something run by me.” Lydia says, through chattering teeth.

“Stay calm. Remember your breathing. You’re a Vampire Lydia. Remember you have control over your body temperature.”

“I don’t have control of my body! I’m trying. I just can’t stop shaking!”

“Ok. That’s fine. It seems like you’ve accessed the physical level of the memory. Why don’t you try to move now…” Deaton says hesitantly. Lydia gasps sitting up straighter.

“I’m moving! I can walk now!” Deaton smiles glancing back at Talia who nods at him as he says,

“Ok excellent. Where are you going?”

“Towards the smoke of course! This is the Hale fire isn’t it? Jeez I can barely see now. There’s so much smoke. My hearts racing for some reason so there’s that…” Stiles snorts.

“Don’t push yourself too much ok? If you want to stop I’m right here,” Deaton says.

“Ok I made it. The house is aflame. No way someone’s going to survive that…” Stiles feels Peter tense by his side. Glancing slightly in his direction, he sees Peter's hands clenching.

“Look around you. Do you notice anything?”

“The flames are out of control. For some reason I’m getting pulled towards the side of the house…Peter! Oh god I think I’m going to be sick!” Lydia yells, grimacing, she hangs her head down, swallowing hard.

“Turn around! Don’t look at him! Lydia listen to my voice! Can you hear me?” She nods.

“He’s…He’s got fourth-degree burns all over his body.” Lydia chokes out, her voice shaking with emotion. Stiles glances at Peter then whose head is turned down and eyes are shut tightly. He looks back at Lydia as Deaton says,

“Listen to my voice Lydia. Hold out your hand.” Her shaking hand comes out hesitantly as Deaton holds onto it.

“Listen to my voice. You are with me now. I’m pulling you away. Away from this dream world and into reality. You are now in a safe place where no one can harm you. You are safe. Open your eyes…” She opens her eyes and gasps. Deaton hugs her in an instant as she cries out in relief into his shoulder. Peter walks up almost hesitantly as he waits for Lydia to calm down. When Lydia finally pulls away, Peter instantly hugs her, holding her tightly to his chest.

“I know what she saw…” Stiles says as Deaton and Talia both turn to look at him.

“What do you mean?” Talia says.

“It’s the dream with the Nemeton isn’t it?” Deaton asks with a glint of excitement in his eye. He sighs, nodding,

“Lydia described what it was like perfectly. Beside seeing Peter, I was in the same dream. Derek told me that the Triskelion pendant uses its power from the Nemeton to create this dream. He said he's been having the same dream for years but he couldn’t figure out what it meant...”

"It seems to me like Derek’s mind has consciously forgotten this traumatic experience. It's a natural human defense mechanism. Whenever something is too traumatizing, too horrible for us to cope with, the brain rejects it, erasing the incident from our memories, but it’s always there, deeply hidden within our subconscious minds.”

“But how is this possible? How was Lydia able to tap into his subconscious if he’s dead?” Stiles head was spinning, thinking of all the possibilities. Was it even possible to be stuck between dimensions of the living and dead? Wouldn’t that make Derek a ghost?

“Banshee’s are omens of Death and messengers of the afterlife. With her abilities she can tap into someone’s soul or subconscious who is dying or already dead.”

“He’s alive.” Lydia says bluntly. Everyone turns to look at her.

“Really?” Talia says with tears in her eyes.

“I wasn’t in control of my body. He was….” Talia gasps, hand covering her mouth as the tears fall down her face.

“Oh thank god!” Stiles exhales, grabbing his hair. His heart skyrocketing in his chest as Talia laughs out loud, bringing him into a hug. Pulling away Talia says,

“I’m so relieved! I’m so happy my baby’s ok. We need to tell the pack!”

“Already ahead of you.” He says pulling out his phone and sending a text to everyone in his clan group chat to bring the wolves down for a meeting. “Everyone’s meeting in the formal living room.”

He strides out as the rest of them follow him close behind as he walks into the hallway. Stiles stops as Allison and Isaac come out of their rooms.

“Hey, have you guys seen Scott?” Allison and Isaac both look at each other with mischievous smiles as they look back at him and shrug. He gasps,

“You didn’t…Guys!” He says after them as they run down the stairs laughing childishly. Has he mentioned before about Allison's habit of taste testing? Well, Isaac definitely isn't the best influence on her.

When Stiles hears the door close from the left of him, his head whips around, gaping soundlessly at Scott who comes out of their room, hair tasseled, in pjs that are definitely not his. Scott looks at him sheepishly,

“Uh, Morning...”

“Please tell me you didn’t allow them to have a full three course, gourmet meal with you...” Scott smirks.

“God damn it Scott! Why?” Scott shrugs walking past him hurryingly.

“I needed to let off some steam…”

“Scott!” Stiles catches up to him as they both walk down the stairs.

“Please tell me you're joking….You're fucking joking right? Scott!” Scott bites his lip, smiling to himself as he practically runs into the formal living room, sitting next to Cora’s side on the couch, cowering next to her as she gives him an unimpressed arched brow. He gapes, as he stands there with his hands on his hips.

“Stiles?” Talia calls, Stiles sighs deeply and turns around, standing next to the alpha in the middle of the room. Everyone somehow squeezing themselves into the couches and crowding around on the floor as Stiles clears his throat.

“So it seems we have some good and bad news.” The room goes silent as he continues, “Bad news. We still don’t know where Derek is. Good news. Derek’s alive. Which is why in a couple of minutes after this meeting I’ll be leaving into the preserve…”

The crowd all start protesting at once as Scott yells,

“I’m coming with you!”

Stiles rolls his eyes as he addresses the rowdy crowd, “Scott, Everyone. This is not an option. Werewolves are still susceptible to a Demon’s black magic. Vampires on the other hand are not. I will be going in this alone. That's an order.” Stiles says, eyeing his clan.

“Yes that goes to my pack and Derek’s as well. No one leaves this house.” Talia says, flashing her alpha red eyes. The packs werewolf eyes flash back at their alpha’s demand in acknowledgement.

“I hate goodbyes so umm I’m just gonna go…” He says turning around and walking to the door. Yells erupt from behind him including curse words and threats as he turns back around offended.

“What! Come on guys! Give me a break!”

“You better hope you don’t come back Stilinski because when I get my hands on you…”

“You wish Whittemore!” Stiles yells as he flips him off, Jackson transforms and lunges towards him but is stopped by Danny who yells at him to run. He doesn’t need to be told twice. Stiles laughs, making a run for it through the back porch doors, running into Beacon Hills preserve and not looking back.

 

 


	8. Crimson Poison

Staring into Death's eyes was like being sucked into a black hole that he couldn’t bear to look away from, no matter how much he’d like to resist. It’s icy white eyes still and tantalizing as they continue to stare off into the infinite distance, capturing the fear of its victims last moments before their lives are stripped from them.

A truly enchanting sight that only the most fortunate were able to see, getting just a glimpse of what other worldly existence awaits was always an honor to Stiles. After all, it was only in Death's eyes that one could even start to fathom the essence of their own morality.

Or in Stiles case, taste it…

The endless stream of blood slipping through his lips glides across the side of his cheek and joins into the ever-growing puddle of blood that awaits it. Having lied there for quite some time, Stiles had been anticipating to meet Death soon.

His body was already shutting down his remaining organ functions and allowing the hypothermia to reach his body’s limit. The veins on his out stretched hand almost as blue as the skin on the severed head lying across from him.

But of course, starvation would end him soon just how Derek promised it would.

He barely made it to the last 48 hour mark.

His last kill unfortunately too weak to end Stiles himself was lying in pieces all over the damned forest floor of Beacon Hills. There was nothing more his Vampiric nature could do, no amount of human blood he could spill or drink that could quench his undying need for Derek’s lycanthrope blood.

The human blood now poison to his Vampiric stomach was coursing through his veins. Filling his lungs with fluid that threatened to suffocate him as his wheezing breaths became ever more shallow. Having hated his Vampiric nature for many centuries, Stiles found it quite fitting for his death to result from the very curse that plagued his life with immortality.

It was so hilariously ironic, Stiles couldn't think of a better way for him to leave this earth.

His mouth twitched to smirk but it only causes him to grimace as the burning in his throat forces him to turn his head slightly, throwing up the last remaining human blood still settled in his stomach. When his dry heaving subsides, his hazy gaze finally tears itself away from the severed head. Stiles’s body somehow finding the strength to turn itself away to stare up at the night sky as if to remind him of the beauty he'll be having to leave behind.

He feels his mouth smirk as he stares longley into the star-studded sky, thinking of how Derek's eyes could rival in their beauty.

It was in those final moments that Stiles found himself finally drifting off into the darkness, like the thought of Derek alone was enough to return Stiles stardust remains back to the cosmos. The faint howling echoing through his ears was like a sweet lullaby whisking him off to sleep.

He felt his consciousness leave his body with a jolt, feeling himself drift through the dark abyss of nothingness; completely at peace.

 

 


End file.
